


Jack Frost (Break the Ice)

by aldebaran26, njw



Series: Through a Dark Prism and Into the Light [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Batfam-ship-pair-up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, From a Supervillain, Humor, M/M, Multiverse, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Jack Frost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26, https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: “Hey, snowflake,” Robin says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he alights on the rooftop behind him.Jack Frost jerks in surprise, eyes widening as he spins to face him. “Quit calling me that!” he orders, barely resisting the urge to stamp his foot. “I’m Jack Frost!”“Could’ve fooled me,” Robin says, flashing a lopsided grin. “And the other heroes. And the other villains, come to think of it. And the newspapers. After all, the only thing anyone ever hears you called is—”“Snowflake?” Mr. Freeze’s voice carries across the night air. “Snowflake, are you alright?” He sounds worried, which is silly because Jack Frost is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.Still, there’s a little thrill of warmth and happiness at the concern. It’s nice to have someone who cares.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: Through a Dark Prism and Into the Light [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041418
Comments: 370
Kudos: 839
Collections: Batfam Ship Artist/Writer Pair-ups, Best of Fanfiction





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the Batfam Ship discord server Artist/Writer Pairup event. Unfortunately, the artist I was originally paired with had something come up in their personal life and had to bow out early on. After getting the okay from the mods, I asked Aldebaran if they’d be willing to step in. We ended up using their Jack Frost character, which they already had a few sketches for and also made new sketches for this story. 
> 
> Credit for the Jack Frost character idea goes to Aldebaran and various members of the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) in the chats last March, especially Salazarastark for the original brainstorm, and SmolSpideyBoi, SoleminiSanction, and Tabletoptime for adding to it. 
> 
> Aldebaran’s wonderful art will be embedded throughout the story and there’s even more lovely art of the various villain!Tims on [Aldebaran’s tumblr.](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Enjoy!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes this chapter adapted from Batman the Animated Series season one, episode three; ‘Heart of Ice’

Tim doesn’t set out to become a villain, or even villain-adjacent. That idea is the furthest thing from his mind as he creeps through alleyways, clambers up fire escapes, and races across rooftops in pursuit of one breathless glimpse of his heroes. Just as he’s getting in position to intercept the vigilantes’ probable route for tonight, his foot slips on an icy fire escape and he barely manages to hold on to his brand-new camera with small fingers made clumsy by the bitter cold.

“No,” he whispers, terrified he’ll lose his tenuous grip and the camera will shatter on the cobblestones below, not even a week after he received it. His parents would not appreciate the knowledge that he treated their birthday gift so cavalierly—that is, if they think to ask about it later at all.

Considering the fact that the package arrived in January with a scribbled note wishing him a happy eighth birthday and his ninth birthday was in July, it seems unlikely.

His heart races as he crouches down and clutches the precious camera to his chest, breath escaping in little puffs that cloud the crisp air. It’s so cold the exposed skin of his face and hands stopped stinging a while ago and just feels numb now. His jacket, never designed to withstand a harsh Gotham winter, does little to keep out the sharp wind, which keeps gusting up before dying down again.

He doesn’t care. He’s finally going to be able to take pictures of Batman and Robin as they protect the city. Following them and trying to figure out their patrol routes over the past few months has been more thrilling than anything he’s ever experienced, with the possible exception of that electrifying moment when he saw Robin do a quadruple flip on the news and realized the boy wonder’s true identity. If he can just get some good pictures of them, maybe he can stretch that feeling of excitement and happiness out a little longer.

Drake Manor is so cold and empty. Maybe some pictures of the vigilantes—perhaps capturing the vivid, bright joy that is Robin, and the valiant nobility of Batman—can change that, at least for a while.

Tim sighs, closing his eyes and remembering the last time his parents were home. It’s been so long, a trip that was supposed to take seven weeks having stretched to seven months now and still counting. The last night before they left, his parents took him to a gala and they posed on the steps for the photographers gathered there to snap Gotham’s glitterati.

He knows his parents’ smiles and affectionate gestures were for the cameras, not for him, but that doesn’t change the sense of yearning that twists his heart and makes his eyes sting as his throat thickens. Something small and cold and starved surges up within him, craving something he doesn’t know how to name.

Tim wants to freeze those moments and hold them in his heart so he can always remember. If he could freeze the feeling of Janet’s warm arms around him, Jack’s approving grin and hand squeezing his shoulder…

He could pretend they loved him.

But those kinds of moments always slip away, fleeting, and leave him colder than ever.

His thoughts scatter as a flicker of movement draws his attention up, where a dark figure cuts a distinctive silhouette as it moves across the cloudy sky. A smaller figure follows just behind, clad in bright colors that seem to bring a little warmth despite tonight’s frigid temperatures.

Shivering in the biting cold, watching Batman and Robin dance through the skies, Tim wonders what makes him so different. Why is his life so barren and cold, when others seem to have so much brightness and warmth?

Tim manages to fumble his camera up and snap a couple of pictures, then watches until they disappear. As a light snow begins to fall, he lingers, hoping they’ll pass by again.

When he realizes he’s starting to lose sensation in his fingers and toes and the cold seems to be seeping into his very core, he finally uncurls his small body from his crouch and rises painfully to his feet. Muscles locked into one position for too long protest the movement, and he feels the unwelcome prickle of pins and needles in limbs that have fallen asleep.

It’s only when he takes the first step down the fire escape and reaches for the handrail that he realizes he has a problem. His hands are so cold it’s difficult to grip effectively, and the steps are still slick and icy. His heart begins to pound as his eyes flick involuntarily to the ground. It’s really far. He’s five stories above the alleyway and the longer he looks down, the farther away it seems and the more precarious the rickety old fire escape he climbed to get here.

He takes a deep, tremulous breath. It’ll be fine. He just needs to take it one step at a time.

By the time he reaches the final flight of stairs, his arms are shaking and he’s panting, little gasps that don’t seem to be enough to get air to his lungs despite how fast his heart insists on beating. He glances down at the ground, so close and welcoming, and speeds up as he descends the last few steps in hopes of getting there just a bit faster.

Of course, that’s when his foot slips out from under him and the force of his fall drags his numb, trembling hand right off of the handrail. As he feels himself falling, he squeezes his eyes closed, miserably anticipating the jarring pain to come.

The sensation of being caught and held in a gentle grip is so unexpected, he doesn’t even register it for a moment. Then his eyes fly open. “What—” He breaks off as he stares, wide-eyed, into the pale, stern face of Mr. Freeze. “Eep,” he manages after a moment.

The initial sensation of shock and fear quickly gives way to curiosity. Mr. Freeze is generally not known to be violent except in self-defense, and hardly ever toward civilians. Tim has never heard of him harming a child. Besides, he doesn’t seem to be in his villain persona right now.

He’s not wearing his heavy-duty cryogenic suit, just slacks and a worn button-down. There’s no helmet trapping a bubble of cold air around his head. He isn’t even wearing his trademark goggles. Tim stares, fascinated. He always heard that Mr. Freeze couldn’t survive without his special suit.

Mr. Freeze’s blue-tinged face, so smooth and expressionless, softens. “Blue eyes,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on Tim’s face. “Like hers.” He blinks, then frowns, seeming to take in Tim’s trembling form and insufficient jacket. “You should not be out here like this, child. It is far too cold for one who can still walk on a summer’s day and feel the hot wind on his face.” He adjusts his grip and lifts him, cradling him to his chest. “Where do you live? I will return you to your home.”

Mr. Freeze—or should it just be Mr. Fries right now? He’s not committing a crime or even carrying his iconic freeze ray—looks at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to point out one of the apartment buildings nearby.

Tim shakes his head, still staring at the man’s exposed face. “Where’s your helmet, Mr. Fries? Don’t you need it?” He’s never seen the villain in person before, but based on everything he’s read, he’s certain the cryogenic accident which injured him changed his physiology such that he requires subzero temperatures to survive. He frowns, suddenly concerned. “You need to put it back on, Mister, or you’re going to get hurt!”

“You—” Mr. Fries pauses, brow furrowed and an expression of mild wonder crossing over his stern features. “You’re kind like my Nora, too. You need not worry about me, little one. It is cold enough for me to venture out without my cryogenic suit. Nights such as this are the only time I can feel a breeze upon my skin, and while it is not what I might want, such is the half-life which remains to me.” He frowns. “You, on the other hand, risk hypothermia if you linger here too long.” His face gentles again. “Now tell me, where are your parents?”

The feeling of being held is so comforting, despite the bite of cold coming both from the environment and the man who is holding him. The wind is picking up again, stealing away his last remaining bits of warmth even faster. Tim blinks, feeling suddenly very sleepy. “Brazil, maybe? No, wait, I’m pretty sure they’re in Japan by now.” He yawns.

Mr. Fries frowns, grip tightening marginally. “Stay awake,” he says, voice sharper. “When will they be home? Who is looking after you? Do you even go to school?”

“Another few weeks, maybe, or their trip might get extended again,” Tim mumbles, eyelids going heavy and starting to droop. “And I look after m’self, I’m not a _baby._ I’m home schooled, but the programs are really easy and I just do all the work online.” His eyes snap open again as he realizes they’re starting to move. “Where are we going? You don’t have to take me home—I can get back on my own.”

Mr. Fries snorts and shakes his head, walking briskly. “I am not going to allow a boy with eyes like Nora’s to freeze to death on the streets of Gotham, or suffer alone because his parents are fools.”

“You… aren’t?” Tim is so confused. It doesn’t help that the rhythmic swaying motion of being carried is making him even sleepier. He must have been out in the cold longer than he thought.

“I have a spare room,” Mr. Fries says, sounding almost like he’s talking to himself. “It’s what she would have wanted—Nora loved children, and we might have had a boy this age by now if not for—” He breaks off, shifting Tim’s weight to one side so he can reach out and unlock a door.

He steps through into what looks like a fairly normal, furnished apartment. There’s a kitchen to the right of a spacious living room, with doors in the back that probably lead to bedrooms. Mr. Fries sets Tim down on the couch and moves to fiddle with a dial on the wall.

It’s just as cold inside as it was outside and Tim shivers, confused and curious but not frightened. “Am I allowed to leave?” He’s not sure exactly what’s happening right now, but if he’s being kidnapped he should probably at least be aware of it.

Mr. Fries pauses and looks down at him, focusing on his eyes and studying him. “Of course, if you wish,” he says at last. “I have no desire to hold you here against your will. Although you are welcome to stay, at least until your parents are home.” He fiddles with the dial some more and, a moment later, warm air begins to waft out of several ventilation panels on the walls. It feels wonderful, heating Tim’s chilled cheeks and spilling welcome warmth into his chilled fingers. 

But it’s not supposed to be warm right now—Mr. Fries is still not wearing his suit! His eyes widen and he sits up straight. “Mr. Fries! Please, you don’t have to do that—I’ll go, there’s no need to make it warm in here for me. You’re going to hurt yourself!”

Shaking his head, Mr. Fries opens a door Tim thought was a coat closet and steps inside, emerging a moment later clad in his usual silver and blue suit. He reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a clear, dome-shaped helmet, which he places over his own head. It locks into place with a soft hiss. “I will be quite well, I assure you. The important thing right now is to warm you up.” He tilts his head, regarding him for a long moment, gaze traveling over his flushed cheeks and pink fingers. “I do not believe any permanent damage was done. Although I suspect it has been far too long since you have eaten, considering your situation,” he mutters, moving stiffly into the kitchen.

Tim watches, bemused, as the notorious Mr. Fries putters around in his kitchen, chopping and slicing and moving easily through the motions of cooking something that smells amazing.

It’s weird.

But it’s also strangely nice. When Mr. Fries puts a plate in front of him, piled high with a delicious-looking curry, Tim can’t help but smile. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked for me,” he whispers, reaching for the plate with warmed, pink hands.

Mr. Fries sighs, the sound echoing through the speakers on his suit. “And I cannot recall the last time I had someone to cook for,” he says, with a wistful note in his voice. “I cannot eat this kind of food anymore. For my own sustenance, I generally freeze dry everything prior to consumption. It is… less than pleasant. Tell me, how does it taste? I don’t remember.”

“Wonderful,” Tim says, trying not to shove another forkful in his mouth too fast. His parents may not be around much, but they certainly managed to drill an understanding of proper manners into him.

“I’m glad,” Mr. Fries says, his suit creaking as he settles awkwardly next to Tim on the couch. He retrieves a tablet from the side table and begins tapping away at it using a stylus. Of course—a touch screen wouldn’t work with his gloves, and probably not with his bare hands, either, since electronics don’t tend to do well in the subzero temperatures his unique physiology requires. He probably has to wear his cryogenic suit even in his home most of the time, because extremely low temperatures can cause issues with batteries and electronics.

Maybe Tim should get him a pair of the special gloves his mother wears so she can use touch screens despite her poor circulation. Then he’d at least be able to use touch screens without a stylus if he wanted. Idly, he leans over as he stuffs another bite in his mouth, trying to surreptitiously get a peek at what’s on the screen.

He’s so surprised at what he sees, he stops chewing altogether and just stares. The display Mr. Fries is so studiously tapping through is filled with snowsuits and cold weather gear, all in children’s sizes. As Tim watches, stunned, Mr. Fries selects a blue one that’s so puffy, Tim’s not sure he could even lower his arms with it on.

“Is that for me?” he squeaks, too surprised to be cautious. He usually knows better than to assume anything an adult does is for him. He winces, waiting for Mr. Fries to snap at his presumption.

He doesn’t. Instead, he glances over, a faint smile curving his thin lips. “Of course,” he says. “You will require much more insulating clothing if you intend to continue going outside during the Gotham winter. Besides, with this, I will be able to safely show you my lab. If you’re interested, that is.” He hesitates, looking uncertain.

See the inside of Mr. Fries’ lab? That sounds so cool—ha, literally!—even better than following Batman around. Having a hero is all well and good, but Batman doesn’t know Tim exists, and he’s far too busy to care even if he did know. Mr. Fries is looking at him like he’s important, like he matters, and there’s a loneliness in his eyes that reflects the emptiness Tim has felt all his life.

It’s that, more than anything, that decides him. He’s going to stay. No one deserves to be that lonely, especially someone as kind as Mr. Fries is turning out to be. “That sounds like fun,” he says, already pondering whether or not he can wheedle Mr. Fries into letting him try one of his freeze rays. They make such a cool noise.

Maybe he could help him out in the lab, and in the field, too. Jack Frost has a nice ring to it. Tim tilts his head and leans back, allowing the peaceful calm, good food, and quiet companionship to wash over him as he drifts off to sleep. Dimly, he’s aware of a blanket being laid over him, and a gentle hand brushing his hair back from his forehead. Hands tug the blanket up and tuck it under his chin so he’s surrounded by a cocoon of warmth.

It’s strange.

But it’s also weirdly nice.

No one’s ever tucked him in before. He thinks he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tiny Tim, impossibly adorable and alone:** *Trembles in the snow*  
>  **Mr. Freeze:** “I am a hardened criminal, beyond emotions—they’ve been frozen dead in me” *Sees Tim* “My heart of ice has melted into a puddle of warm goo and I need to protect this tiny human forever”  
>  **Tiny Tim, deserving all the love and protection:** “Bwah?” *Shivers*  
>  **Mr. Freeze:** *Sweeps Tim up and wraps him in layer after layer of warmth and protection, feeds him delicious hot foods the likes of which Mr. Freeze can only dream of eating. Hugs him.*  
>  **Tiny Tim, not familiar with hugs:** “...Huh. This is… different? I like it!”  
>  **Mr. Freeze, appalled:** *Hugs him tighter, wonders if he should punish his parents somehow for making him like this. Ultimately decides it’s not worth it because clearly their hearts are already frozen*


	2. Chapter 2

Tim beams at his reflection in the window of a darkened storefront in downtown Gotham. He’s wearing his new costume, beautiful in shades of icy blue and white, and holding his new miniature freeze ray. His light blue parka with dark blue and white accents is comfortable and ultra-warm, as is his dark blue knitted cap. The thermal turtleneck and pants underneath keep him toasty, as do his sturdy boots, and overall it’s a far cry from the pathetically insufficient clothes he was wearing three months ago on the night he met Victor Fries.

The blue-tinted goggles just look cool. Well, they protect his eyes, of course, but they’re _mostly_ for looking cool.

“I’m Jack Frost! I will freeze everybody’s hearts,” he whispers, practicing his awesome new tagline. Now that Mr. Fries finally gave in and made him his own freeze ray, he’s sure he’ll be able to help with his work. Why shouldn’t he? It’s a noble cause, after all. Mr. Fries is just trying to raise money for his research so he can save his wife, Nora, who’s still in a cryogenic chamber waiting for the technology to cure her. She’s been waiting long enough. Not only that, the research might be able to help lots of other people with terminal conditions.

Surely such a worthy goal justifies going a little outside the law now and then.

Mr. Fries is bound to let him help once he sees how useful he can be and gets past all his silly ideas, like “This costume is for emergencies only, Tim,” “Stay in the apartment where you’ll be safe,” and “You may use this freeze ray for escape, but only if you are ever attacked and I’m not there to help.”

As he opens his mouth to try his catchphrase again, maybe with more menace this time, the sound of voices from a nearby alley draws his attention. He considers, then peeks around the corner, always curious. It’s been a while since he wandered the Gotham streets alone. Mr. Fries is usually very careful about looking after him and accompanies him when he wants to explore Gotham at night—which he’s only allowed to do once he’s finished all his homework and chores—but tonight he had to go meet with some potential investors for his research, so Tim was able to slip away unnoticed.

It’s Batman and Robin, both of them peering at the ground and inspecting what looks like some random scuff marks in the snow. Yikes—tonight is supposed to be about testing out his new costume, not confronting Gotham’s vigilantes while wearing it. He begins to edge carefully backwards, hoping neither of them will spot him.

Of course it doesn’t work. Robin frowns and looks up, straight at Tim. Batman follows his gaze and rivets him in place with the intensity of his focus.

Well, nothing for it now. Might as well test out the new catchphrase. “I will freeze everybody’s hearts,” Tim says, standing up straight and trying not to look as nervous as he feels. Both of them look extremely startled at the sight of him in his new costume. Maybe even… afraid? He beams, proud of his apparent effect on the heroes. The costume must be even more impressive than he thought. “See! You are frozen in fear!”

The corner of Batman’s mouth twitches is something that looks almost like humor and then he eyes the freeze ray in Tim’s hand, expression going wary. “Where did you get that?” He edges closer, probably planning to confiscate the potential weapon.

“Found it,” Tim says promptly, knowing better than to tell them the truth. If they realize he knows where Mr. Fries is, they’ll probably want to capture him and throw him in Arkham again. Then there won’t be any more hugs, and Mr. Fries will be alone and sad once more.

Robin—the new one who just started, not the original—continues to stare at him, ignoring the freeze ray. “What the fuck, kid? What are you doing out here on your own?”

“Language,” Batman mutters in the background, and is promptly ignored.

“How old are you, anyway, like six?” This Robin has a rougher demeanor than the first one, but Tim has seen how gentle he is with the kids he saves. He’s a good Robin.

Still, that doesn’t make it okay for him to insult Tim. “I’m nine!” He stamps his foot and considers brandishing his freeze ray at them, but decides against it. Mr. Fries would probably be awfully upset if he got himself captured on his first night out, and he’s not actually sure his freeze ray is powerful enough to stop a grown man in his tracks.

“Jesus Christ. B?” Robin looks toward Batman, seemingly at a loss as to how to handle him.

Batman edges closer to Tim, who narrows his eyes and edges an equal distance farther away. “Be that as it may, you are still far too young to be out on your own. You clearly lack adequate adult supervision, considering you are wandering the streets of Gotham in the middle of the night with a potentially dangerous weapon you must have picked up at a crime scene. I think I should give your parents a call—”

Tim shakes his head, but he’s too excited and nervous at meeting his heroes in the flesh to prevent himself from babbling. “Oh, they won’t be able to answer! They’re in Scotland for the next few months and they prefer I not bother them while they’re working. Or while they’re home. Or—”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Robin mutters, stomping right up to him and only hesitating for a moment before scooping him up in his arms. Tim is too startled to resist. Robin isn’t all that much taller than him, so it’s an impressive feat of strength. “B?”

Batman frowns deeply, seeming to consider something. After a moment, his head jerks in a quick nod. “Hn.”

Robin beams. Tim squirms in his grip. Is he being arrested? They can’t arrest him if he hasn’t committed a crime yet, right? “What? What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, you’re ours now,” Robin says, apparently deeming that enough of an explanation. “Your parents sound pretty shitty, frankly, and we got lots of room at home.”

Huh. Maybe this is how Batman got the new Robin—rumor has it, Bruce Wayne picked Jason Todd up off the streets. It could be that the man is used to opportunistically acquiring disadvantaged children and adopting them so he can shower them with paternal affection, wealth, and vigilante gadgetry.

Tim blinks and pretends to consider the offer. It’s a good one, really, or would have been if he’d met them a few months ago. But he already has a safe place and someone he cares about deeply, which will all be threatened if Batman and Robin take too much of an interest in him.

No, he can’t do it, much as a piece of him yearns to be part of their world. He’s already got a place, and it’s not with them. The heroes would never be able to accept one of their villains, and Tim won’t leave Mr. Fries behind.

He waits until Robin relaxes, and then twists and squirms his way right out of the bigger boy’s arms, accidentally setting off the freeze ray in the process. The sound it makes is so cool, but it’s hard to appreciate at the moment. He watches in horror as the ray shoots straight at Batman’s boots, freezing them to the sidewalk. Oops. Welp, that bridge is definitely burned now—or maybe the correct term is frozen. Whatever. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Batman!” Tim yells as his feet hit the ground and he takes off running, heart racing as he tries to ignore Robin’s startled shouts and Batman’s muffled curses. He rounds the corner and then squeaks as big arms wrap around him. How did they catch up to him so fast? “No! No, let me go!” He has to get away—he has to!

“Hush, child, it’s only me. What on earth were you thinking, slipping away like this? I came home and you were gone. I was worried.” Mr. Fries gathers him up in his arms and then retreats. They move rapidly away from where Batman and Robin, by the sound of things, are still struggling to dislodge Batman’s boots from the ice.

“I wanted to prove I can be a help to you,” Tim says, ashamed. All he ended up doing was giving poor Mr. Fries more work. “You work so hard and no one ever tries to help you. I thought if you had a partner, it would make things easier.”

There’s a brief hitch in Mr. Fries’ step and when he speaks, his voice sounds different. Gentler, somehow. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Thank you, snowflake, but the best thing you can do is keep yourself safe. I have lost someone precious before, and I must admit, I am not prepared to do so again. I do not believe I could endure it.” His arms tighten slightly.

Tim doesn’t answer, just holding on and hiding his face. His cheeks feel too hot. How can a man as cold as Mr. Fries make his heart feel so warm?

His resolve to help Mr. Fries in his quest to save Nora intensifies. Tonight may not have quite gone according to plan, but he did learn that his suit works very well, keeping him toasty warm even in bitter cold weather. And the freeze ray works really well—even against Batman!

There will be time enough to test the rest of his gadgets later. For now, he will work on getting faster and stronger, and helping Mr. Fries with his research.

Later, though… Jack Frost is going to make his name known.

* * *

Almost two years later, he’s starting to realize that making his name known is going to be more of an uphill battle than he thought. He stands on a rooftop in the financial district overlooking Robinson Park and watches Mr. Freeze, who is down below using his freeze ray to ice over the reservoir. Once he’s finished, he’ll give the signal and Jack Frost will aim his freeze ray at the sky to make it snow.

They did this last winter, too—when Mr. Fries found out Tim had never been ice skating before, he iced over the reservoir just so he could teach him how to skate on it. By the time they were finished, laughing and sliding across the ice together, other people had timidly gathered to watch. A few brave kids came out on the ice, and when Mr. Fries just nodded at them as he created a beautiful ice sculpture of a woman skating, others soon joined in. It turned it into a spontaneous event, culminating when Tim aimed his own freeze ray at the sky and crowned the evening with a pretty, light snowfall.

This time it’s planned, and the crowds are already gathered, ready to enjoy an evening of skating. Too bad none of the media coverage is likely to call him by his rightful moniker. Instead, it’s probably going to be—

“Hey, snowflake,” Robin says, a teasing lilt in his voice as he alights on the rooftop behind him.

Jack Frost jerks in surprise, eyes widening as he spins to face him. “Quit calling me that!” he orders, barely resisting the urge to stamp his foot. “I’m Jack Frost!” He’s put a lot of work into building his cool alter ego identity, and people keep insisting on getting the name wrong.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Robin says, flashing a lopsided grin. “And the other heroes. And the other villains, come to think of it. And the newspapers. After all, the only thing anyone ever hears you called is—”

“Snowflake?” Mr. Freeze’s voice carries across the night air. “Snowflake, are you alright?” He sounds worried, which is silly because Jack Frost is perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

Still, there’s a little thrill of warmth and happiness at the concern. It’s nice to have someone who cares.

That doesn’t make it okay for Robin to tease him, though. Jack Frost glares at the other boy, cheeks hot and lips pursed in something he’s afraid probably looks more like a pout than the disdainful expression he’s going for. “Just because he calls me that doesn’t mean it’s my name,” he hisses.

“Sure, whatever, snowflake,” Robin says, leaning forward and patting him on the head.

Jack Frost snarls and bats at his hand, blushing harder. Robin’s in the middle of a growth spurt and he won’t stop rubbing it in that he’s a foot taller now. “What do you want, anyway?” he asks. Usually the Bats leave Mr. Freeze—and by extension, Jack Frost—alone, especially when he’s minding his own business as a private, law-abiding citizen. He hasn’t been involved in any of the activities which would normally put him on their radar, not since taking in Jack Frost.

Robin shrugs. “Nothing, really. Was just on patrol and spotted you here. Decided to stop by and bother you for a while.” He smirks. “Maybe take you skating and show you how it’s done right.”

Sputtering, Jack Frost tries to think of a scathing reply. He’s great at skating! Well, at least he doesn’t fall down much anymore. He’s still thinking when Robin straightens, apparently listening to something on his comms, and nods, then departs with a quick wave and a wink. “Maybe later—I gotta go now. Seeya around, snowflake.”

Darn it. He’s never going to convince anyone to call him Jack Frost, is he?

As he watches Robin bound away across the rooftops, his expression softens, a faint smile lingering on his lips. Annoying or not, Robin’s pretty amazing. He’s kind and funny and always seems to look out for Jack Frost, warning him if other villains are on the loose.

Jack Frost has never really had a friend before—Mr. Freeze doesn’t count, he’s basically family by now—but he thinks maybe Robin might be one.

He’s jolted from his thoughts by Mr. Freeze arriving on the rooftop. “Snowflake! You missed the signal and then you didn’t answer. Are you alright?”

“Oh, sorry! Robin was here and I got distracted.” He blushes, belatedly raising his freeze ray and firing it into the air to produce a pretty, light snowfall that fills the sky with tiny sparkles. It makes even Gotham look beautiful.

“Robin, eh?” Mr. Freeze raises an eyebrow. “I see.” He tilts his head, hesitating, then seemingly decides to continue. “Well, he seems to be a fine boy, with a good head on his shoulders. Still, you’re much too young to be thinking about anything like that.”

“Uh, what?” Jack Frost says, blushing even more furiously. There’s no way he means…

“My Nora and I didn’t even hold hands until we were in our twenties,” Mr. Freeze says, shattering Jack Frost’s hopes that this conversation isn’t about to get severely awkward. “I recommend waiting until you’re at least that old before you have your first romantic relationship. You know, the human brain isn’t even finished developing until the mid-twenties—”

Jack Frost sighs with relief. Now that Mr. Freeze is in lecture mode, he’ll probably just discuss the vagaries of human biology for the next twenty minutes and forget all about whatever he thought was happening with Robin.

Which was nothing, obviously.

Still, Jack Frost’s gaze trails back to where Robin disappeared over the horizon, a little smile on his lips as his cheeks heat again.

It’s definitely nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, preening in his new Jack Frost costume:** “I will freeze their hearts!”  
>  **Batman and Robin, spotting him:** “D’aww…!” *Smile at him as their hearts visibly melt*  
>  **Tim, eyeing them suspiciously:** “Are you frozen in fear?” *Waves his tiny freeze ray around adorably*  
>  **Batman:** “No”  
>  **Robin, stomping on Batman’s foot as Tim wilts in disappointment:** “Uh, yeah! Yeah, we’re totally frozen in fear, little guy”  
>  **Tim:** “Yay!”  
>  **Robin, edging closer:** “So, uh, can’t help but notice that you seem awfully small and unaccompanied. You an orphan? Asking for a friend”  
>  **Batman, brightening:** *Looks hopeful and expectant*  
>  **Tim, sensing imminent adoption:** *Points in random direction* “Look over there it’s a D-lister robbing a bank!”  
>  **Batman and Robin, immediately focused:** “Let’s go” *Head off in direction Tim pointed, where they inevitably actually do find a D-lister robbing a bank because Gotham is just that predictable*  
>  **Tim, making his escape:** “I think I need to work on my intimidation factor”  
> A couple years later:  
>  **Jack Frost, more adorable than ever:** *Zaps sky with freeze ray, brings sparkling snowfall over the citizens of Gotham as they happily skate on frozen lake below*  
>  **Robin, grinning at him:** “Holy shit snowflake, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”  
>  **Jack Frost, realizing he’s gone the opposite direction in terms of trying to become more intimidating:** “...Dammit”


	3. Chapter 3

Jack Frost barely breathes as he waits, frozen in place while the Joker’s peels of mad laughter tear through the silent night air and echo down the snow-clad mountainside like gunshots. He’s perched on the roof of a warehouse an entire ocean away from home and he’s never felt so alone, so terrified and determined.

If he doesn’t time this perfectly, he isn’t going to be able to prevent a tragedy.

Not for the first time, he regrets keeping his worries about Robin to himself. It’s just that it seemed like a personal issue at first—Robin and Batman were clearly arguing more, and it was obvious Robin was rebelling against Batman’s strict rules as he got older. It didn’t seem too bad. Jack Frost kept a closer eye on him than usual, expecting him to run off and hang out with Nightwing for a while or something.

He didn’t expect Robin to leave the country, chasing the promise of a mother who turned around and betrayed him to the Joker. Of course he followed Robin after being told in confidence where he was going, because if there’s one thing he knows it’s that biological families aren’t always kind. Jack and Janet Drake never give him much besides impatience and angry voices while they’re around, and the empty spaces they leave behind when they’re not.

He left a note for Mr. Fries when he slipped out of Gotham, but he didn’t say where he was going. It seemed like too much of a betrayal of his friend. As for Batman, he’s probably on his way here by now, but there’s no guarantee he’ll make it in time.

So, he’s on his own. That’s fine. Probably.

The Joker laughs again and the fine hairs on the back of Jack Frost’s neck rise, adrenaline surging at the sheer wrongness of that sound. It’s terrifying. Worse, though, is knowing Robin is inside that warehouse, in the power of a man whose madness has carried him far beyond the reach of love, of simple human compassion. He will have no mercy or pity, not for anyone. Least of all for Robin.

Jack Frost trembles, and it isn’t from the cold. He forces himself to wait, watching for an opening, and—there! The last of the henchmen he saw earlier exits the warehouse, leaving the Joker inside with Robin.

He knows his limits all too well. He’s small for twelve, and his strongest skills are in supporting roles, providing intel and backup from a distance. He’s not a front line fighter. Against the Joker and all of his minions, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Even just against the Joker alone, odds of his success are slim.

But this is Robin, _Jason._ He can’t fail him.

Jack Frost edges forward, sliding through the roof access panel he jimmied earlier, while the Joker was causing a distraction ranting about how he’d finally captured the boy wonder. He presses himself up against a beam and sweeps his gaze over the interior of the warehouse, which is dimly illuminated by dirty industrial lights suspended from the ceiling. Part of his mind notes the stacked wooden crates and metal drums to the sides, the positions of each window and door, and the wide expanse of open floor.

Most of his attention is fixed on the figures in the center of that floor. His hands shake slightly as he sees the Joker, whose face is stretched in a cruel facsimile of a toothy grin. The villain is actually chuckling softly to himself as he stalks across the warehouse floor, approaching a slim figure in red and black, curled on the floor.

Robin.

His hands are bound behind his back and he’s lying on his side, but he’s moving. His eyes open as Jack Frost watches, and he struggles to raise himself. Jack Frost quickly scans his friend’s body for injuries, almost sagging in relief when all he sees are some minor abrasions and a tear in his mask. Robin is panting, but his breathing sounds clear.

In the few minutes Jack Frost had to wait outside between Robin being carried into the building and all of the Joker’s minions leaving, he imagined a thousand different ways the Joker could have hurt his friend.

Could have killed him.

The fact that he’s here, still breathing and staring up at the Joker with open defiance in his blue gaze, is an outcome he was almost afraid to hope for. As he watches, the Joker sneers and raises his gloved hand high.

He’s clutching a crowbar.

“Oh, heck no!” Jack Frost whispers, raising his freeze ray and taking aim. His area effects aren’t strong enough to take out a dozen men at once, not like Mr. Freeze’s.

He doesn’t need to. He only needs to take down one.

The expression on the Joker’s face when the freeze ray hits and ice solidifies in a solid mass encasing his raised hand is almost comical. The weight of the ice drags his hand down to the floor even as he tries to spin, and Jack Frost takes the opportunity to freeze his hand to the floor. “Who—?”

“Probably not who you were expecting,” Jack Frost says, taking aim again. “I’m Jack Frost, and you have my friend.”

He fires again, this time freezing the Joker’s feet in place. He knows he’s not supposed to freeze too much of someone’s body—extremities can heal, especially with the chemical baths hospitals in Gotham know to use to treat injuries from Mr. Freeze’s weaponry. Encasing more than thirty percent of someone’s body, though, or covering the face, could result in serious injury or even death.

That doesn’t stop him from pressing the trigger again, this time to freeze the Joker’s other hand, not stopping until it sinks to the floor. He doesn’t let up until every one of the Joker’s limbs is pinned, frozen to the floor. He isn’t taking any chances with Robin’s safety.

Robin.

Jack Frost’s gaze darts to his friend, and he’s relieved to see Robin is sitting up, busily working his hands free from the bonds now that he doesn’t have the Joker attacking him. “What the fuck are you doing here, snowflake? I mean, not that I ain’t relieved to see you, because holy shit, but still! You could’ve gotten hurt!”

Oh, that’s rich. He snorts as he jumps down from the rafters and lands lightly on the warehouse floor, covering the Joker with the freeze ray the whole time just in case. “Seriously? I could have gotten hurt? What about you? You’re the one who got captured by the Joker!” He hurries over to help Robin with his bonds.

“Well isn’t this sweet?” the Joker says, baring his yellowed teeth at them in something that can’t possibly be classified as a smile. “Young love, I think I’m about to throw up. Come over here, snowflake, and hold out your hat.”

“Ew,” Jack Frost says, pausing for a moment to blink at the Joker. “That’s—no.” He eyes the bonds as they finally loosen in his hands, then eyes the Joker as an idea occurs to him. A moment later, he smiles, pleased at the improvised new gag the Joker is wearing.

“Fuck, that’s way better,” Robin says, nodding his approval. He starts to shift, trying to stand up. Jack Frost hurries to help him, one hand going to support his arm and the other wrapping around his back.

“Are you sure you’re okay to stand up? How much did he hurt you already?” His stomach twists as he imagines what must have already happened here, what would have continued to happen if he hadn’t followed Robin. The thought of his friend in pain, suffering and alone, makes his eyes prickle as a lump rises in his throat.

“I’ve had better days,” Robin admits, then drapes an arm over his shoulder and squeezes, sending him a sidelong glance and the lopsided grin that never fails to send his heart racing. “But this one’s looking up now.”

A muffled snicker draws their attention back to the Joker, who’s looking at something on the other side of the warehouse. As one, they turn to follow his gaze.

There’s a bomb.

It’s ticking quietly down, and there isn’t much time left.

Jack Frost makes a face. “Well, screw that,” he says, raising his freeze ray again and blasting it until the bomb is completely encased in several feet of ice. Heh. That’s always fun.

The Joker makes a muffled noise of disappointment, which they ignore. They shuffle toward the door, Robin limping slightly but only leaning a little of his weight on Jack Frost. As they finally push the door open and emerge into the crisp, clear night air, they brace themselves, ready to face whatever minions the Joker left posted outside to keep watch.

Surprisingly, there’s no one there. Just a black car, presumably the Joker’s getaway vehicle. He must have ordered all of his people to leave.

Jack Frost sighs, allowing his tense body to go slack. This was always going to be one of the riskier moments of the rescue, and finding out he doesn’t have to face an army of henchmen with an injured Robin to protect is almost enough to send him to his knees with relief.

“Hey, snowflake, you’re okay, right?” Robin’s voice sounds concerned. He reaches over and cups a hand around Jack Frost’s cheek, turning his face so he can study his expression. Whatever he sees there seems to alarm him even more. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says awkwardly, still holding him. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m glad you told me where you were going,” Jack Frost says fiercely, unable to even allow himself to imagine what would have happened otherwise. His voice wobbles. “Just, I haven’t really faced off against any _really_ bad guys on my own before—” He breaks off, eyes wide, as he finds himself drawn into a close embrace.

Robin’s warm arms are wrapped around him, his cape fluttering in the breeze as he rests his chin on top of Jack Frost’s head. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “But… Thank you. Thank you so much for coming after me.”

At that moment, the sound of an engine approaching in the distance grows louder and then a motorcycle comes into sight. It’s Batman, roaring up the mountain toward them.

The engine cuts off abruptly and Robin and Jack Frost both turn as one towards the dark figure running in the direction of the warehouse, urgency and desolation impacting his usually graceful movements.

Robin must make a noise, because Batman’s head snaps toward them. Suddenly he’s right there, gently separating them and then carefully but quickly checking them both over with efficient movements.

His voice is rough, desperate, far more _Bruce_ than the Bat as he growls, “Robin, report.” Both boys straighten automatically at his tone.

“The Joker’s secure inside the warehouse, but there’s a bomb in there. Snowflake here put ‘em both on ice.” Robin’s arm sneaks back around Jack Frost’s shoulders. He sounds proud.

Batman’s gaze cuts toward the warehouse for a moment and then fixes on Robin’s face again. The ice weaponry designed by Mr. Freeze is capable of holding someone in place for hours, if not days. They all know the Joker isn’t going anywhere, not until someone feels like chiseling him free and carting him back to Arkham. He takes an aborted step forward, reaching out with one hand. “That’s—Robin, I was asking if _you’re_ okay.”

“Oh,” Robin says, sounding surprised. “Uh, he knocked me around some, but he didn’t manage to get any hits in with the crowbar before snowflake made him chill out.” He snorts and bites back a laugh at his own dumb joke.

Jack Frost snickers. Dumb jokes can be fun. “Guess he just froze up.”

Robin grins at him and opens his mouth to reply, but stops when a soft noise from Batman’s direction catches his attention. “B?”

“If Jack Frost hadn’t been here—” Batman breaks off, jaw tightening. He shakes his head as though to ward off the terrible thought of what might have been.

Batman’s the only one who actually calls Jack Frost by his proper name, but right now, he can’t really appreciate it. He’s too busy nibbling his lip and wondering if he should slip away and give them some privacy to work things out. He starts to edge backward, then freezes when Robin snakes a hand out and grabs his sleeve, pinning him in place. He freezes, then carefully wraps his hand around Robin’s. If his friend needs his support during this conversation, he’s not about to walk away.

Robin blinks back tears. “B, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I thought you were gonna fire me anyway, so I figured I had to find somewhere else. When I found out I might have a mom somewhere, I—” His voice cracks.

“Oh, son, no. I was concerned, that’s all. I never intended to drive you away.” Batman closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around his son, whispering a constant stream of reassurances as he bends his head forward. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ll figure everything else out later. What matters now is you’re safe.” He falls silent then, his broad shoulders beginning to shake.

“Dad, I—” Robin’s voice dissolves into a soft sob.

“I’ve got you.” Batman bends his head down and holds on even tighter, which does nothing to hide the fact that the man is still shaking, silent sobs wracking his frame. “I was so afraid I would be too late. I _was_ too late. If it hadn’t been for your friend…”

Jack Frost stands as far as possible from the pair, feeling incredibly awkward. He eyes his hand, which Robin is still clinging to, and wonders if it would be rude to gently escape his hold and slip away. He really does need to get back to Gotham, and it would be best to do so separately from the Bats. Batman might very well take this opportunity to try to figure out who he really is, and then the chances of him disturbing his entire way of life would be astronomical.

He likes his way of life right now and doesn’t want to see it upended, no matter how well-meant the intervention.

“I am the reason you were in danger in the first place. Can you ever forgive me?” Batman whispers, still clutching Robin close.

“Fuck that, there’s nothing to forgive, B,” Robin manages, finally releasing Jack Frost’s hand to clutch at Batman’s cape.

Smiling softly—it seems Batman and Robin have managed to work things out, at least—he backs away, turning and running once he’s gone a safe distance. The Freeze Jet isn’t very far away.

Hopefully Mr. Fries won’t be too mad about him taking it. Or about him having disabled the tracking and homing features. If he hadn’t, it would have been way too easy for Mr. Fries to just call the jet back to base and then no one would’ve been there to save Robin.

Still…

Jack Frost gulps as he approaches the small, sleek jet and presses the button to open one of the semi-translucent doors and step inside.

Yeah, Mr. Fries is probably going to be mad.

As the door begins to lower and he turns the tracking and homing features back on, he’s pretty sure he hears Robin calling out for him to wait.

Jack Frost hesitates, but there’s no choice. The jet is already powering up and rising into the air on autopilot, a course laid in for Gotham. Mr. Fries must have been waiting for it to come online again so he could call it home. He’s definitely mad.

Sighing, he begins to peel off some of the layers of his costume as the heater turns on and begins wafting warm air toward him. Might as well relax and try to enjoy the ride.

“Where on earth have you been?” Mr. Fries demands the moment the jet lands in the open portion of the building behind his lab which he uses as an aircraft hangar. He crowds close, apparently trying to simultaneously hug him and check him over for any signs of injury.

“I left a note!” Tim says, defensive but not very hopeful.

Mr. Fries rolls his eyes. “Yes, well allow me to inform you, ‘gone after Robin, he’s up against the Joker, back in two days’ was not very reassuring. I have destroyed seven of the Joker’s secret hideouts searching for you!” He still hasn’t let go of Tim, holding him close as though afraid he’ll disappear again if he lets go.

Oops. It’s been three years since Mr. Fries started looking after him during the long stretches of time the Drakes are out of the country, but Tim’s first instincts are still calibrated to parents who never care what he does or where he is. “I’m sorry,” he says, feeling guilty. “I’ll leave a better note next time.”

“That’s not—” Mr. Fries stops, shakes his head, and sighs. Leaning forward, he gently bumps the glass dome of his cryogenic suit against Tim’s head in the closest he can come to a paternal kiss on the forehead. “We can talk about this later, I suppose. For now, have you slept in the past twenty-four hours? When was the last time you had anything to eat?”

“I slept!” Tim doesn’t have to mention it was just in the jet. By the look on Mr. Fries’ face, he knows. He winces when his traitorous stomach growls.

Narrowing his eyes, Mr. Fries turns and chivvies him along toward the kitchen. “You can tell me all about it over a good meal.”

His stomach growls again. While he’s not looking forward to the lecture he’s definitely about to endure, something in the kitchen smells amazing. That makes him feel even worse—Mr. Fries has a tendency to stress cook. Sighing, he tries not to worry about that. Food sounds really good right now. And Mr. Fries still has an arm draped over his shoulders, holding on just a little tighter than usual.

Tim allows his eyes to fall closed for a moment and takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. As he does, he feels the tension and panic of the past couple of days slowly release. Jason’s safe with his family now, and so is he.

It’s really good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Joker, cackling insanely:** “Imma murder Robin to death and then make inappropriate jokes about it every time I see Batman for the rest of forever!” *Raises crowbar*  
>  **Robin, bracing himself for the blow:** *Accepts death, prepares to spit blood in Joker’s face as one last act of rebellion on his way out*  
>  **Jack Frost, dropping out of the rafters:** “Not even if hell freezes over! Get away from him!” *Blasts freeze ray, encases entire Joker in ice. Eyes him suspiciously, then blasts him continuously until no part of him is visible through six foot layer of solid ice*  
>  **Robin, having untied himself:** “My hero!” *Throws himself into Jack Frost’s arms, almost overbalancing both of them. Begins humming softly*  
>  **Jack Frost, frowning as he recognizes the song:** “Wait a minute… is that…?”   
> **Robin, grinning and singing:** “The cold never bothered me anyway~”   
> **Jack Frost, rolling his eyes:** “Oh my god” *Drops Robin* “I’m leaving”  
>  **Robin, jogging after him:** “Wait! Snowflake!” *Runs directly into Batman, who immediately latches on to him and refuses to let go* “Dammit B, lemme go, I gotta catch up to Snowflake before he—” *Falls silent as ice-blue jet rises out of a snowdrift in front of them, takes off into the sky, and disappears* “...leaves. Dammit”   
> **Batman:** “...” *Hugs him tighter*  
>  **Robin, sighing and relaxing:** “Yeah, okay, this is nice. I can catch up with snowflake more later”  
>  **The Joker, still encased in ice:** “...” *Is ignored*  
> Elsewhere:   
> **Mr. Freeze, after hearing how Tim saved Robin from the Joker:** *Tucks Tim into bed, then retreats to lab. Eyes copy of Arkham blueprints, studies the ductwork* “It would certainly be a pity if the cryogenic apparatus which maintains the subzero temperatures in my customary cell were to malfunction and freeze the Joker’s cell instead” *Plots. Smirks* “No one’s going to hurt my snowflake”


	4. Chapter 4

Tim lifts the mug of hot cocoa to his lips and takes a drink, noting with distant interest that his hand seems to be shaking. That’s odd. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the physical evidence of his distress.

He’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine.

Except… Nothing is going according to plan, and he has no idea how to fix any of it. He sighs. At least with his eyes closed, he doesn’t have to look at the immaculate kitchen he’s sitting in. His mind’s eye forms the image anyway, refusing to allow him to pretend he’s home and safe in the snug apartment he’s shared with Mr. Fries for the past three years.

No, the kitchen he’s currently sitting in is almost painfully clean, appliances and countertops gleaming and nothing out of place with the exception of himself. Everything looks showroom-perfect as always, a stark contrast to the warm, lived-in and welcoming feel of his home.

Not for the first time, he feels a curl of amusement at the thought that the home of Gotham’s notorious ice-themed villain is so much warmer than the one he grew up in. The amusement dies as he remembers why he’s here.

It should have been fine. The mission earlier this week wasn’t exactly routine, but it wasn’t especially perilous, either. Mr. Fries was just going to break into Gothcorp to retrieve some of his old research, which he needed for the ongoing effort to safely revive his cryogenically preserved wife. It’s the first time he’s done anything that really crosses the line into illegal territory since he took Tim in, but it’s vital to being able to someday revive Nora. Besides, it’s his own research—that should barely even qualify as stealing, right?

He only sent Tim back to Drake Manor beforehand as a precaution because there was a moderate chance of his being caught since he has attacked Gothcorp before and Batman is sure to have various telltales in place to alert him in the event of another attempt.

The Drakes were supposed to be back in Gotham the next day, anyway, so Tim had to be at Drake Manor to greet them. The timing wouldn’t have worked out for him to be able to both assist Mr. Freeze in his venture and also be back in time to meet his parents and pretend he’d been at the manor all along.

That doesn’t stop him from blaming himself for what happened, though. Inhaling slowly, he opens his eyes and directs his gaze at the screen of the tablet on his lap. The headline from two days ago stares at him accusingly—‘Mr. Freeze Back in Arkham’—and he wants to cry. Mr. Fries doesn’t belong there. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody. All he wants is to save Nora, and help people!

Who knows how long it will take for him to break out again? What if he’s trapped in there for a long time, maybe years? He deserves so much better than to be alone, with nothing but cold memories of warmer days.

Tim doesn’t think about what it means for himself. He can’t. It makes his eyes sting as his throat closes up, and there go his hands again, trembling for no reason.

Sniffing, he sets his mug down on the side table and swipes at his eyes. The hot cocoa isn’t doing its job to make him feel better, which isn’t that surprising. It just seemed like a good idea. Mr. Fries always makes him hot cocoa when he’s feeling down.

Maybe it only works when Mr. Fries is the one who makes it.

Mr. Fries. Tim’s eyes well up again and he sniffs loudly before turning back to his tablet, trying hard to control his emotions. He can’t just sit here wallowing in grief and worry. His parents might be here at any moment—they’re a couple of days later getting back, but that’s par for the course for them. If they come in and find him crying like a helpless baby, they’ll be so disappointed in him.

Considering their level of judgement and censure when he cried at age four after seeing the Graysons fall, he does not want to see how they’ll react to him doing it at twelve.

He doesn’t want to endure the lectures about decorum and conduct befitting his place in the world, not now when his heart is breaking over the loss of his home and the most real family he’s ever had. Of course, his mother’s stinging rebukes and his father’s quick temper won’t hurt more than the dull ache he’s felt ever since he saw the headlines and realized Mr. Fries had been caught.

A quiet scuffling sound fills the silence and he raises his head quickly, scrubbing at his cheeks in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of his tears. As he does so, he frowns in confusion. That wasn’t the sound of a key in the front door. More like someone trying to raise the door knocker. It’s old and tends to get rusty with disuse in between the times his parents are in the country.

Eyes widening, he rises to his feet and walks over to the front door, reaching it just as the loud clang of the knocker resonates through the foyer, repeating twice before falling silent. Swallowing—maybe his parents misplaced their keys?—he reaches out and opens the door. Keeping them waiting would only make their inevitable reaction to his emotional state worse.

Tensing, he opens his mouth to greet them, then freezes as he takes in the two people standing awkwardly in front of the door. They’re not his parents.

Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd stare back at him, Jason’s hand still raised as though to bring the knocker down again. They both look very startled. Tim blinks, his mind stuttering on why they could possibly be here. Oh god—maybe they finally figured out he’s Jack Frost, and they’re going to arrest him too. Although, if he’s allowed to have a cell by Mr. Fries, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad… 

“Holy shit,” Jason says after a moment. “Guess they did have a kid, after all.”

Mr. Wayne continues to stare at him for a moment, a stunned look on his face, before his expression smooths into the charming society smile he wears so often. “Timmy Drake? Sorry for the intrusion, but I just received paperwork from your parents on an urgent matter which requires my immediate presence here. Oh—excuse me. I’m Bruce Wayne and this is my son, Jason.” He reaches out a hand and Tim flinches before realizing Mr. Wayne was just trying to give him a handshake, not grab him.

Frowning slightly, Mr. Wayne smoothly retracts his hand and continues to regard Tim, a studying expression on his face. Jason is downright glowering now for some reason.

Resisting the urge to quail at the combined forces of a displeased Batman and Robin, Tim swallows. He’s suddenly acutely aware of how he must look right now, with his puffy, swollen eyes. What a terrible first impression. His parents will be so mad when they find out. Maybe the Waynes won’t notice? At least it doesn’t sound like they’ve figured out his secret identity, not if they’re just here for some business matter with his parents.

“Sorry,” he says, voice breaking on the word. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “Uh, please come in? My parents aren’t home right now, but they should be back soon—” He steps back and gestures for them to come in. They don’t move.

Jason makes a soft noise that almost sounds hurt. Tim frowns, looking at him questioningly. The older boy glances up at Mr. Wayne, who looks awkward and helpless now for some reason. Rolling his eyes, Jason turns back to Tim. “Kid, I’m so damn sorry to be the one to hafta tell you this, but your parents, well…” His face twists and the expression of sorrow and sympathy in his eyes looks completely genuine as he says, “Their plane went down. They—fuck, this sucks.”

“They didn’t make it,” Mr. Wayne says in a quiet voice, eyes softer than Tim has ever seen them.

He barely knew his parents. What he did know of them was polite distance and stern rebukes whenever he tried to cross that distance, occasional flurries of attention and warm gestures when they made public appearances as a family, and the understanding that his place in the family was entirely predicated on his adherence to their exacting standards.

Right now, though, that doesn’t seem to mean anything. His eyes sting as hot tears well up and overflow, leaving burning trails down his cheeks. “Oh,” he says, or tries to say. It’s just too much. First Mr. Fries, and now even his parents are being taken from him. He feels cold and alone in a way he hasn’t in years.

Jason curses under his breath. “Aw, geez. C’mere, kid.” A moment later, Tim is engulfed in a warm, comforting embrace.

His face feels hot with embarrassment—he’s crying like a baby in front of _Batman_ —but neither of his companions seems to be offended. Instead, Jason is rocking him gently back and forth and there’s a big, warm hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. It takes him a shocked moment to realize it’s Mr. Wayne’s.

After a while, he realizes Mr. Wayne has been speaking. “And if I had ever realized you were here, I would absolutely have intervened on your behalf years ago.”

Tim frowns, feeling like he’s missing something. He raises his head and blinks his vision clear, sniffing. “What? I mean… Why?”

Mr. Wayne’s expression darkens. “I received word from your parents’ attorneys a few hours ago, after definite news came in of wreckage from their flight being found in the ocean. Apparently, the Drakes named me as your legal guardian in their will should anything happen to them. Why, I am uncertain—”

As soon as he hears those words, Tim understands. Even in death, his parents are trying to climb higher on the social ladder, with him as their surrogate. He blinks, then shakes his head. “That’s—okay, that’s weird, but that’s not what I was asking. I meant, why would you have intervened on my behalf years ago?” It doesn’t make sense.

Jason snorts. “Kid, we checked before we came over. Neither of us ever heard of the Drakes even having a kid, and when we looked at their schedule, we could see they haven’t spent more than ten months, total, in the country since you were born.”

Tim frowns. “But they took me to events with them every couple of years or so.” Even as he says it, he realizes with a gathering sense of doubt that his appearances in public were always brief, and his parents never really bothered to introduce him to anyone.

“Yeah, every couple of _years._ And they traveled all the damn time. I just figured you were like a nephew or something who came to visit once in a while.” Jason snorts. “Not their damn neglected _son.”_

Mr. Wayne nods, expression grave. “I also erroneously assumed you were a distant relative the Drakes were grooming to act as their heir. It didn’t help that the articles in which photographs of you and your parents occasionally appeared never mentioned you by name, merely discussing your parents’ business ventures and success.”

Well, that makes sense. His parents never did much to push him into the limelight, considering him too young and unimpressive to boast about. It does hurt to realize they never even mentioned him, to the point that even Batman was unaware of his existence as their son.

Ouch. 

Clearing his throat, Mr. Wayne continues. “I did some checking into their financial records as well, and couldn’t find any evidence of a caretaker being hired in their absence except for during the first four years of your life.”

Tim nods. “I liked Mrs. Mac, but once I was old enough to be responsible for myself, my parents didn’t want to keep her on.” The money could be better used elsewhere.

“It is completely inappropriate to leave a child your age unattended for long stretches of time,” Mr. Wayne says, looking thunderous. “Had I known, I would have taken you in myself.”

“Oh,” Tim manages, throat dry. His heart is pounding and he feels a weird sense of déjà vu, remembering the first time he met Batman and Robin as Jack Frost. He has to hold back a hysterical laugh as he wonders what they would think if they knew.

“Listen, Timmy, B has the papers to bring you home right now. You don’t hafta stay here alone, not anymore.” Jason’s voice is achingly gentle, as are his arms which are still wrapped around him.

Tim takes a deep breath, wonders what even is his life, and nods. “Okay.”

Until Mr. Fries gets out of Arkham, this is probably his best bet. Mr. Wayne and Jason really seem to care about what happens to him. They also clearly have no idea he’s really Jack Frost, which makes him feel vaguely guilty, like he’s imposing on them or tricking them.

Well, it’s their own fault they haven’t managed to put the pieces together. They’re supposed to be the world’s greatest detectives, after all—some frosted goggles shouldn’t be giving them this much trouble.

“Okay,” Tim says. “Thanks.” He’s proud that his voice doesn’t wobble, not even a little bit.

“Is there anything you’d like to get from here?” Mr. Wayne’s expression is still so soft.

Tim thinks about the cold, immaculate room upstairs, with its tastefully selected art on the walls and closet filled with neatly pressed suits. He shivers. “No,” he says, trying not to let his mind drift to his messy, lived in, well-loved room at Mr. Fries’ apartment. “There’s nothing here I want.”

Mr. Wayne and Jason share a glance over his head. “Okay,” Mr. Wayne says, nudging them toward the driveway and reaching out to close the heavy front door with a decisive thud. “I think by the time we get back, Alfred will have your new room ready.”

“He’s sure to cook a big dinner tonight, too,” Jason says, one arm still wrapped around Tim’s shoulders as they walk toward the sleek black car he can see waiting in the drive. “Everything he makes is amazing, except for the waffles.”

Mr. Wayne and Jason make matching expressions of distaste, and a laugh bubbles up in Tim’s throat. Bad waffles, huh? If that’s the worst he has to look forward to, this won’t be so bad. It might actually be kind of fun.

It’s not home, but… Maybe it’s the next best thing. 

* * *

Tim flattens himself against the wall, the cold from the smooth, dark limestone behind him seeping in through his thin pajamas as he listens, heart racing. This was such a bad idea. He couldn’t help himself, though. He’s in _Batman’s house._ Of course he took the first possible opportunity to search for Batman’s secret crimefighting headquarters.

So cool.

Over the years, he’s heard Robin mention the Batcave over the comms more than once, so he had a general idea of what to look for. He didn’t actually expect a literal cave filled with bats, but that’s what he found.

Something sets the bats off overhead and they flutter away with an unholy screech. He barely manages to contain his flinch. He can’t believe he hasn’t set off some kind of sensor just by being down here. Although, he slipped in pretty much right after he watched Jason move the hands of the clock and go through. It’s possible whatever sensor logs entries and exits failed to register them as two separate people, or maybe he’s too small to set it off.

Either that, or Batman and Robin are just too distracted right now to check the readings on their security systems. That seems much more likely, actually.

Tim swallows. He definitely should have thought this through. Now that he’s in here, he’s almost certain to be caught. He can’t even go back the way he came, not when there’s every chance they’ll notice the moment he opens the secret door in the clock again. Maybe he can just wait until they leave for the evening’s patrol. Yeah, that seems like his best bet.

“What is this, the third time he’s tried to escape?” Robin is saying, frowning at the numerous monitors set up around what looks like the main workstation in the cave. He and Batman are both in their uniforms, Robin having changed as soon as he came down. They seem to be checking the status of various villains using their computer before heading out for the night.

“Fourth,” Batman says, staring at the screen. “This is out of character for him.”

Who are they talking about? Tim risks peeling himself away from the wall and leans forward slightly to get a better view of what they’re looking at on the screen. When he sees, he almost swallows his tongue.

It’s Mr. Fries. He’s pacing inside a small cell, furnished with little more than a simple cot. A lump gathers in Tim’s throat at the lonely cell and the expression on Mr. Fries’ face. He looks hunted, desperate. What could be so wrong? Did something happen with Nora? Surely he knows she’ll still be out here waiting for him whenever he escapes or is released. She’ll wait forever if she has to, frozen and trusting.

Robin shrugs, looking unconcerned. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. He’s never been too much trouble. And hey, maybe we’ll run into snowflake out there tonight—we can ask him what’s up with the big guy.”

Batman shakes his head slowly. “Jack Frost has still not been sighted since Fries was taken in. I suspect he’s gone to ground.”

“Any progress on figuring out who the hell he is when he’s not running around making mischief, icing up the reservoir for ice skating, and giving the street kids unseasonable flurries so they can make snowmen and snow cones?” Robin’s grinning like he thinks Jack Frost is adorable and harmless, not impressive or even a little bit intimidating.

Tim scowls. He needs to step up his game.

“Not yet. Fries has been very careful to conceal both the boy’s identity and his home. The only certainty is he does not belong to Fries—there is no paperwork on record, and considering his loyalty to his wife, it is highly doubtful the boy is his.” He clears his throat. “I once asked after the child, not long after Jack Frost first began intermittently appearing with him. Fries wouldn’t give me much, but from what he said I gathered the boy is in the system and has a home. I’ve checked the official orphanages and files for boys matching his age and description who are in foster care, but children are moved around so much it’s difficult to do an exhaustive search.”

Huh. Well, it sounds like Mr. Fries did a pretty good job protecting Tim’s identity, if Batman isn’t suspicious even now that he’s literally in his home.

“All’s we got is Fries’ word he’s taken care of. What if he’s a street kid?” Robin says, voice hushed. “You think…?”

Batman nods slowly, gaze fixed on Mr. Fries, who is still pacing rapidly through his cell, a tortured expression on his pale face. “I think Jack Frost has something to do with Fries’ desire to escape. If he was the one actually caring for the boy full-time… There may be little he would balk at in order to free himself and return to him.”

Robin goes pale. “You think snowflake’s on his own somewhere in the city?” He straightens, looking like he’s about to go outside and search every snowdrift and dumpster. “Shit, we gotta find him.”

“Yes. I think a visit to Arkham is in order to give us a starting point.” Batman reaches for his cowl, then pauses. Tim’s heart jumps and he goes weak in the knees when Batman’s head tilts and he turns to look directly at him.

Crap.

A humiliating little squeak slips out as he tries unsuccessfully to physically merge his body with the wall behind him as they rush toward him. It seems like no time at all before Batman and Robin are standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him with veiled surprise and suspicion.

He manages not to squeak again when Robin reaches for him, but only barely.

Robin notices anyway. He pauses, then telegraphs his movements as he moves to stand to Tim’s left. He can’t help but notice that the movement pens him in between the two of them. His heart hammers as his mind helpfully supplies him with a series of images from various times he’s seen Batman and Robin interrogating criminals. “Please don’t interrogate me,” he says, then feels himself go beet red. Ugh, why can’t he be glib and cool in the face of interrogation? This is why Robin thinks he’s harmless. 

Batman’s jaw is tight, his lips a thin line. “What are you doing here? How much did you overhear?”

“I got curious and went exploring,” Tim says, deciding it’s probably better to answer honestly but not volunteer any unnecessary details. The last thing he needs is Batman angry at him for outright lying to his face.

Anyway, if they’re going to go talk to Mr. Fries tonight, the jig is almost certainly up. If he’s really that worried about Tim for some reason, then he’s probably going to tell Batman the truth about Tim’s identity just so he can check on him and make sure he’s safe. “And I overheard, uh, everything? Sorry!”

“Well, shit,” Robin says. There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“You should go back into the house,” Batman says finally, still pinning him with that intense stare. “Mr. Wayne will not be pleased to hear you wandered down here. It is not widely known, but he is a generous philanthropist who chooses to finance a portion of my work and allows me to maintain a base beneath his home—”

Tim stares at him for a moment, trying to parse what he just said. Even after he runs the words back through his mind, they don’t change. Batman is trying to say he’s just a dude who lives in Bruce Wayne’s basement.

Holy crap.

This is the perfect out. Tim should nod, slip away, and pretend he doesn’t know any more than he should about Batman, Robin, and Jack Frost.

He doesn’t.

Instead, a snicker slips out, then builds into a laugh which he tries to muffle with his hands. Batman doesn’t move, but Tim has the impression that he’s slightly offended. Even that isn’t enough to stop his disastrous laughter.

“What the hell, kid?” Robin says, sounding so much like Jason that Tim has no idea why he ever fools anyone. Then again, Tim apparently manages, and his disguise is just a pair of lightly frosted goggles.

“You pretty much just said you’re a weirdo who lives in your own basement,” Tim says, still grinning at how ridiculous this whole situation is. At this moment, he doesn’t even want to hide his secret identity from the Bats anymore. They’ve been so kind to him, and the tangled situation with Mr. Fries will be so much easier to work out if he just tells them the truth.

After all, his biggest fear has already come to pass. Mr. Fries is in Arkham, and he’s pretty much in Batman’s power. It isn’t as bad as he expected.

And based on the concern he overheard in Batman’s and Robin’s voices a few minutes ago, they’re truly worried about Jack Frost and would probably spend the whole night searching the city if no one tells them the truth.

“Uh…” Robin says, looking uncertain as he glances back and forth between them. “You mean, B’s a weirdo who lives in Mr. Wayne’s basement, right?”

“Uh, no, I meant what I said.” Realizing they probably need more of an explanation than that, he continues. “I figured out who you guys really are when I was nine based on Dick’s showy flips, not long before I met Mr. Fries. I saw the Graysons perform when I was four, so I was able to make the connection when he did the quadruple as Robin. I never told anyone, I swear! Not even Mr. Fries.” It wouldn’t have felt right to betray their secret. 

“Holy shit,” Robin mutters, mouth dropping open in surprise. Batman just stares at him, possibly already planning how he’s going to convince Dick to tone down the showy flips from here on out.

Having stunned both of them to silence, Tim clears his throat. “Speaking of Mr. Fries, would you mind setting up a call? I think he’d like to know I’m alright, and I would really be glad to hear his voice.” He avoids looking directly at either of them, not quite ready to see their reactions to his confession.

“Goddamn, _snowflake?_ It’s really you, isn’t it? Jesus Christ, I shoulda known. Your laugh sounds exactly the same.” Robin nudges forward, grinning with excitement now that he’s had a minute to absorb the news. “You’re a sneaky little shit, aren’t you?”

Tim shrugs. He’s not going to deny it.

Batman just spins on his heel and strides away back down the stairs. Tim watches him go, nerves rising the longer it takes him to react. “Is he mad?” he whispers after a moment, still staring at the stiff line of the vigilante’s back as he sits down and begins to work at the computer.

“What?” Robin looks surprised and shakes his head with vigor. “Oh, hell no. He’s just got a one track mind. I bet he’s already working to set up a private call with Mr. Fries for you.”

“Oh.” Tim lets himself relax a bit. After a moment, he smiles. “That’s great.”

Robin nods, then leans against the wall beside him. “Y’know, this is actually a huge relief. This is why you’ve been jumpy around us, right? ‘Cause you knew we’re really Batman and Robin?”

Tim nods. “Yep. When you guys showed up at my house, I almost had a heart attack thinking you were there to arrest me or something.”

“We’d never do that—hell, you saved my life! Neither of us will ever forget that. Besides, you’re too cute and harmless to arrest.”

“Hey!” Tim is not harmless. He’s very… harmful? No, that doesn’t work. Anyway, he’s awesome and kickass and refuses to be called harmless.

“But seriously, finding you in that house all by yourself—I was worried you’d just been there on your own all these years. And then you were jumpy as hell around us, and it made us wonder if your parents maybe gave you a reason to be.” He winces.

“Oh, no,” Tim says, shaking his head as the import of what Robin is saying hits him. “They’d yell and stuff, and sometimes Dad would throw things, but never _at_ anyone, and they never raised a hand to me or each other.” No, they just yelled and broke things. His shoulders tighten as he remembers what it was like listening to their fights, curled in his bed or hiding under it.

Robin looks sad again for some reason, but he nods. “I’m glad they never went further than that. And I’m glad as fuck you had Freeze. I mean, being half-raised by a supervillain instead isn’t exactly the best upbringing, but Freeze seems pretty decent, as supervillains go.” Robin clears his throat and averts his eyes. “I’m happy you had someone like him around.”

“Me too,” Tim says, smiling but feeling a twist in his heart at the thought of Mr. Fries being stuck in Arkham for who knows how many years.

“Tim?” Batman’s voice says, calling him over to the Batcomputer. “I’ve coordinated with the Arkham administrators to set up a private call. They think I’m questioning him for a case.”

Tim hurries down the stairs, dimly aware of Robin following close behind. When he gets to the computer, he sees Mr. Fries’ face on the screen, looking impatient and concerned. “Yes, Batman, what is it? I know nothing about any case—” His voice breaks off as he catches sight of Tim. “Tim!” His gaze flies back to Batman and hardens. “What is he doing there? If you have harmed him or intend to use him as leverage in some way—”

“I’m fine,” Tim says quickly. “It’s not like that, not at all. They came to get me at Drake Manor in my civilian identity, but they know who I am now. For, uh, reasons.” He tries not to blush as he remembers his babbling confession.

“Janet and Jack Drake named me as Timothy’s legal guardian,” Batman says, mercifully moving the conversation along. “I promise to look after him as though he were my own, until you are released.”

Tim feels an iron band around his heart give way at his words and turns to him, hardly daring to hope. “You won’t try to keep me away from him when he gets back out?” That’s been his biggest worry since finding out Mr. Wayne had been granted legal guardianship—never being able to go home again, not even when Mr. Fries is freed. 

Batman shakes his head. “I would not try to separate family,” he says simply.

Mr. Fries sighs softly, then dips his head forward. “I thank you. Both for that, and for finding him and taking him in. I heard about the Drakes’ plane crash yesterday, on the news in the common area. Since then, I have been going out of my mind trying to find a way out, to be there for my snowflake.”

That explains all the escape attempts. “Thanks, Mr. Fries.” He feels so warm.

“I am merely relieved that you are safe and well.” Mr. Fries lifts his head and gives Tim a wistful smile. “Take care of yourself, snowflake, and allow them take care of you. I will return to you when I can.”

Tim blinks back tears and nods, then allows Robin to tug him away while Batman and Mr. Fries continue speaking. He vaguely overhears something about an early work-release program for Mr.Fries and the possibility of a research grant from Wayne Enterprises. It’s enough to give him hope.

Even though things are changing, it doesn’t have to be bad.

Maybe it’ll turn out to be a change for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tim, alone in gigantic empty house after Mr. Freeze is arrested:** *Sips hot cocoa, wonders why even that doesn’t make him feel warm* “Nothing could possibly happen to make me feel more alone”  
>  **Bruce and Jason, showing up unexpectedly:** “Oh hey Tim Drake? Yeah btw your parents just kicked the bucket”  
>  **Tim:** “I am misery” *Bursts into tears*  
>  **Jason, panicking:** “Omg what, how do you turn this shit off??” *Reflexively reaches out and hugs Tim* “Is this how??”  
>  **Bruce, standing there awkwardly:** “...”  
>  **Tim, sniffing loudly:** *Is small and cute and orphaned, pings every one of Bruce’s orphan-collecting instincts*  
>  **Bruce, adoption mode activated:** *Lifts both Jason and Tim in his arms, marches toward car* “You are mine now”  
>  **Tim:** “Wtf” *Sneaks down to Batcave to fanboy over the setup, spots Mr. Freeze on the screen looking sad as Batman and Robin discuss his numerous mysterious escape attempts* “Mr. Freeze!”  
>  **Mr. Freeze, looking up because through some laughable oversight the connection is wired for two-way sound:** “Snowflake?”  
>  **Batman and Robin, spinning to stare at Tim in shock:** “SNOWFLAKE??”  
>  **Tim, realizing he’s totally busted:** *Gives an awkward wave* “Yo”


	5. Chapter 5

Jack Frost leaps to the next rooftop and slides smoothly over the ice, careening to the other side and spilling off the edge with a loud whoop. The ultra-low friction produced by his new retractable-skate boots is incredible. He feels like he’s flying through the air with no resistance at all, the blades cutting through the ice in a graceful glide that carries him faster than he ever managed back in the lab during the initial testing.

Mr. Fries makes the best tech. With his help, of course.

“Holy shit!” Robin yelps behind him. Come to think of it, maybe he should have mentioned the new boots to his friend before testing them out. “Snowflake!” There’s a note of panic in his voice that makes Jack Frost feel a little guilty, but not enough to stop.

He takes aim in the air and uses his freeze ray to ice over the next rooftop, then braces himself for the landing. He nails it, his momentum picking up as he skates smoothly across the iced surface. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he cackles at how far behind Robin has fallen. The boy wonder—well, if they can still call him that, now that he’s almost twenty to Jack Frost’s seventeen—just can’t keep up, not when he has to be careful picking his way over the ice in his normal, heavy-tread boots.

Jack Frost is not above taking advantage of that. He soars off the edge and freezes the neighboring rooftop, then frowns as he lands. The next rooftop after this is higher, so he isn’t going to be able to use the same trick there.

He didn’t actually consider how he’s going to stop safely now that he’s hurtling across the iced rooftop at an unprecedented speed. Whoops.

As he careens toward the edge, mind rapidly trying to calculate if using the freeze ray to make a blizzard of snow will be enough to cushion his inevitable hard landing or if he should deploy the emergency parachute as well, he hears Robin’s voice behind him. “Shit, snowflake, look out!”

He must have seen the same thing Jack Frost did. “I got this!” he says, not entirely certain it’s a lie. He does have this. Probably.

Raising the freeze ray again, he uses his thumb to switch the setting to flurry and releases it at full blast. Powdery snow pours out, filling the air and hopefully building into something that will cushion his landing enough that he won’t injure himself. There isn’t really time to fully deploy the parachute, so hopefully this will be enough.

Ugh, how embarrassing. He meant to impress Robin with his fancy new tech, not wipe out impressively right in front of him.

“No, wait!” Robin sounds more worried than he should. It’s not like they’re that high up—the building Jack Frost just plunged off the edge of is only two stories high, for goodness’ sake. With his training, augmented by his time with the Waynes, he should be able to make it down safely just by parkouring off the sides of the buildings and catching himself on a fire escape or something. There’s no need to get so worked up. “Right in front of you!” Robin yells. There’s a note of panic in his voice, which is gaining volume as he skids and races across the slippery ice trying to catch up.

Jack Frost looks away from his growing flurry and oh, crap. So that’s what Robin meant.

He only has a moment to take in the whirling, flashing depths of the portal in front of him before he’s flying into it, his momentum carrying him through before he even has a chance to fight it.

Oops.

Faintly, he hears Robin calling out behind him. He’s not sure if he imagines the ghostly trace of fingers trying to close on his hood, and failing. He definitely hears Robin’s panicked last cry, _“Tim!”_

Well, this is not how he hoped tonight would end.

Jack Frost braces himself just in time to spill out of the portal, tumbling head over heels and barely managing to pull himself into a crouch when he finally comes to a halt.

Seriously, the Bat-training he’s gotten over the past few years is a lifesaver. Mr. Fries is amazing and his tech is awesome, but his cryogenic suit increases his strength and durability to the point that he doesn’t really need to worry about fighting and defensive skills. As a result, he just doesn’t have the skillset to teach Tim the finer points of hand-to-hand combat or acrobatics.

Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Jason Todd, on the other hand, are all highly experienced at maximizing normal human abilities to their full potential, and they are all very willing to impart their skills to him. Bruce’s training tends to be clinical and grueling, Dick’s leaves Tim feeling like an overstretched pretzel, and Jason’s is rough and ready in a way that makes him feel like he’s been run over by a truck. A very attractive truck.

He blushes, trying not to think about the delicious awkwardness of being pinned earlier this afternoon during one of those training sessions. Now is not the time to be remembering that.

Spending three months with the Waynes when he was twelve, during Mr. Fries’ brief incarceration, and then regularly visiting the Bats afterwards did a lot for Jack Frost’s coordination. Without it, he’s pretty sure he would have landed in an undignified sprawl just now and probably broken a few bones for his troubles.

Of course, the massive cushion of snow that apparently came through the portal with him probably helped, too.

“Well, I suppose I should have anticipated this,” a highly familiar voice says, sounding amused. “Perhaps I should have chosen a more auspicious moment to bring you through, but I never can resist the most dramatic moves.” The words are accompanied by the sound of someone shuffling around on the other side of the snow pile. By the sound of it, he realizes the person must have been directly in the line of fire when he came through and ended up partially buried in the snowdrift that came through with him.

That’s fine. It gives him a chance to get his bearings before confronting whomever brought him here.

Jack Frost scans the room, noting the advanced tech, maps of Gotham heavily annotated and marked with what looks suspiciously like strategies for mayhem, and general air of shadows and plotting. There are a few chess-themed decorative touches, including what looks like a game set laid out on a nearby desk with tiny models of Gotham’s heroes and villains laid out like chess pieces. Okay, that’s not ominous at all.

He’s definitely in a supervillain base. The question is, whose? And why?

A whisper of movement behind him catches his attention and he tenses, berating himself for not checking his blind spot immediately. Supervillains almost always have minions. He pivots on his heels, not yet rising from his defensive crouch. When he sees what made the noise, he almost wishes he hadn’t looked.

There’s someone there, sitting a few feet away balanced on a giant ball with a creepy smiley face on it. The person is about Jack Frost’s size, but it’s difficult to tell their age since they’re completely covered by loose, black-and-white clothing, a white hat, black shoes, and what looks like a porcelain mask, formed into a permanent smile, accented with a beauty mark on the left cheek. They tilt their head, regarding him, leaning back on the ball and kicking their foot in a slow gesture that might look playful if it weren’t so damn creepy.

* * *

  
Pierrot. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

The fine hairs on the back of Jack Frost’s neck rise at the disturbing sight of the clown-themed villain. Horrible thoughts crowd his mind—the Joker _is_ dead, right? He was killed in that unfortunate accident involving the cryogenics system at Arkham, during Mr. Fries’ brief stay there. Batman examined the body himself during his investigation. He would have known if it was a fake.

Still… That doesn’t mean the Joker didn’t have accomplices. Maybe some who still want revenge for Jack Frost saving Robin from him, or who think Mr. Fries may have had a hand in the death of their boss.

Which, fair. Batman never managed to prove it, but Jack Frost is pretty sure it’s an open secret that Mr. Fries totally masterminded the Joker’s “accident.” As he stares at the blank, smiling mask in front of him, he has a sinking feeling he’s about to pay a steep price for the past few years of stolen peace.

At least Robin is safe. If the Joker’s minion got him, too, Jack Frost doesn’t know what he’d do. When he remembers the horror of Jason in the Joker’s grasp, he knows there aren’t many lines he wouldn’t cross to keep that from ever happening again.

Maybe if he just holds still, this guy will keep creeping on his ball long enough for him to come up with a plan to escape and neutralize the threat on the way out.

Or not. As he watches, the guy rises slowly to his feet and raises his arms, tilting his smiling face in the creepiest manner possible. His long sleeves drape down and cover his hands so it’s impossible to see if he’s holding anything, leaving Jack Frost free to imagine horrors ranging from knives to Joker toxin under there.

* * *

  
Pierrot rises to his feet. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

“Eep,” Jack Frost says, freezing in place like a startled deer. He still has his freeze ray, he reminds himself. He can pin this guy down the same way he did the Joker, back when he was saving Robin from the evil madman.

Only, there’s still the other guy, the one who was buried in the snowbank earlier. As he crouches, mind frantically running through battle possibilities and escape plans, he’s dismayed by the realization he can’t hear the shuffling sounds of someone digging their way out of the snow anymore. Which means…

Crap.

A soft snicker draws his attention to the right, and he barely holds back a flinch at the realization someone else is now standing just a few feet away from him. His heart races in panic before he registers that it’s definitely not the Joker, or even another Joker-themed villain.

It’s a tall, slim man wearing a well-tailored dark suit. He regards Jack Frost with a slight smile on his oddly familiar face. “Aw, that’s adorable. Are you actually frozen in fear right now? That reaction is quite fitting, I suppose, considering your general theme. Pierrot does tend to make an impression.” His gaze flits to the clown, leaving no doubt as to whom he is referring.

Pierrot, huh? Well, it’s good to have a name to go with the creepy. Anyway, the disturbing clown-themed person is suddenly not the most bizarre aspect of this encounter.

Jack Frost stares at the guy in the suit, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of _his own face_ staring back at him, looking patient and amused and maybe a year or two older than him. “What the heck?” he blurts out, unable to hold back. This is just too weird. “Are you… _me?”_

The guy in the suit just returns his gaze and smiles. A chill trickles down his spine as he stares at that smile, trying to figure out what’s so disturbing about it. Somehow, it’s even creepier than Pierrot’s mask. After a moment, he realizes. That’s Janet Drake’s knife-edged smile, the one that always meant she had already won whatever battle the poor slobs in front of her thought they were fighting.

Yikes. Well, that’s probably not good. He shivers despite his warm suit.

“Yes and no,” the young man says, reaching up to delicately dust a few stray snowflakes from his shoulder, the only remaining sign of his close encounter with the snowdrift earlier. “Have you ever heard of the multiverse?”

“Ah,” Jack Frost says softly, looking at the other version of himself. “I see.” He blinks, settling back on his heels as his thoughts rearrange themselves around this new information. He nibbles at his lower lip as he considers the many reasons some random businessman version of himself might feel the need to drag him into another universe. There are a few interesting possibilities. None of them explain the presence of the clown-boy, though. At least this probably means it isn’t some Joker-related vengeance plot from beyond the grave.

Businessman Tim eyes him, his smile softening. “Hmm.” He chuckles, lips quirking. “You’re not very intimidating, are you, Frosty Tim?”

He is very intimidating, thank you very much! “Excuse you, my name is Jack Frost. Also, I have a freeze gun that says otherwise. Underestimate me at your peril.” He waves said freeze ray around, taking care not to accidentally point it at either of his companions. No need to antagonize the locals, as long as they continue to play nice. “And you’re one to talk—whatever your gig is, if you even have one. Are you actually a businessman, or just businessman-themed?”

That surprises a quiet snort out of businessman Tim. “Let’s say I’m just a defenseless but very important piece in the game of chess.”

Well, that doesn’t leave many options. “So you’re the king?” He slots that piece of information into place in his mind, where it lends weight to the theory that this is business Tim’s lair, not the clown’s.

Businessman Tim—there’s no way Jack Frost is calling him King Tim, even in his own head—grins. “Oh ho, I see you catch on pretty quick. We’re definitely going to get along well.” His blue eyes sparkle. “You may call me Chessmaster.”

Fair enough. At least that’s less annoying than king. Jack Frost nods, then glances over at Creepy McCreeperson, who’s still lurking off to one side with his head tilted, staring at them through his mask. His scary, scary mask with its crazed grin and air of endless horror. “So… who’s that guy? Is he your lacke—” He breaks off as something comes flying at his face and bounces off his forehead. He catches the object by reflex, then wishes he hadn’t.

It’s a miniature version of the creepy, smiling ball the creepy clown guy was sitting on earlier. Apparently that’s what he was holding under those puffy sleeves. “Hey!” Jack Frost directs his coldest glare at the clown, who just shrugs, obviously unrepentant.

Chessmaster chuckles. “You’re lucky he didn’t throw a knife at you for that. I suppose it’s best to allow Pierrot to explain.”

Okay, so there might be knives under there too. Yikes. Jack Frost looks at the clown, hesitant but curious. He needs as much information as possible if he’s going to figure out a plan to deal with the situation he’s found himself in. “So… Who are you?”

Pierrot removes his mask, and Jack Frost’s breath catches at the sight of bright blue eyes and a shy smile. All his fears and discomfort fade at the sight of yet another version of his own face.

* * *

  
Chessmaster, Jack Frost, and Pierrot (uncolored version). Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

  
Chessmaster, Jack Frost, and Pierrot (colored version). Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

“Oh,” he whispers, curiosity and pity warring within him. “Another me. So, how did you become…?” He can’t help but wonder what would drive a version of himself to wear that particular mask and hide behind the fear it summons.

Pierrot shrugs lightly, a haunted expression shadowing his face as he looks away. His voice is very soft and far too flat for the words it carries. “Trauma, neglect—I guess, the need to relive the feeling of joy and having a loving family like I felt it then, that night at the circus. And then I hear the screams and see the distraught looks on people’s faces in the crowd…”

His eyes are wide and not quite focused in a way that sends a prickle of warning down Jack Frost’s spine. Pierrot smiles, and it’s a shattered thing he never wanted to see on his own face and knows he will never be able to unsee now. “That was the only night my parents actually seemed to be concerned for me, you see. So I keep trying to recreate it, the only way I know how. The screaming always brings it back.”

Oh god. That’s so awful, but Jack Frost can almost see how it might have happened. He was so young and so desperately alone back then. If he never met Mr. Fries… Well. Maybe he could’ve ended up like this. Fixated on that one moment of feeling what it might be like to be loved, merged indelibly with the screams and terror that followed. He shivers.

Pierrot blinks, his gaze suddenly focused again as the unhinged edge fades from his expression and voice. “Listen to me, rambling on about my past.” He chuckles, and it’s Janet Drake’s society laugh. “So, how about you?” He lowers his mask again, that frozen smile covering the devastation in those blue eyes. Jack Frost doesn’t know which is worse. “Do you have people who love you?”

Jack Frost nods and blinks, surprised to find his eyes stinging. It’s more painful than he would have imagined, to meet a version of himself who grew up without the love and care Mr. Fries and the others have tried so hard to surround him with. “Yes. Mr. Fries is the best family I could want. The Bats look out for me, too.”

Chessmaster smirks. “Any bat in particular catch your attention, snowflake? Or maybe a robin?” The insinuating way he draws out the name causes Jack Frost to blush, and Chessmaster's smile widens. “I thought so,” he says, sounding satisfied. “I couldn’t be certain, of course—you’re both so awkward and clueless, it was difficult to gauge your actual interest level, but I was fairly confident I was right. It’s why I brought you here, after all.”

“Uh,” Jack Frost says, mind stalling out at the abrupt topic change. “What? I assumed you just brought us here for the joy of science, and maybe to hang out with alternate selves because it’s interesting. By the way, how long are you planning to keep us here?” There’s no way Robin hasn’t already reported Jack Frost’s disappearance, and Mr. Fries is probably worrying about him right now. He has to get home, and soon.

Hopefully Chessmaster is just playing around and not planning to try to coerce them into doing something truly evil. Jack Frost claims to be a villain, but he’s more mischievous than anything else and prefers to stay in a comfortable moral gray area. He doesn’t want to hurt innocent people. Pierrot… He risks a glance at the clown, and his heart twists at the realization he has no idea where the lines are for his alternate self, or if there even are any.

“Why not both?” Chessmaster tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “We can revel in the joys of science while also serving my underlying purpose. I should be able to send everyone home tomorrow morning, once we’ve performed our combination move and successfully protected the queen.”

Well, that’s not particularly informative, although protecting someone sounds a lot more positive than some of the other possible explanations for their presence. Jack Frost opens his mouth to ask for more details, but Chessmaster strides forward, gesturing toward a bank of computer monitors to one side. “I have others I’ll be bringing over as soon as the machine finishes its recalibration. More players to fill out the board. Take a look.”

Stepping forward, Jack Frost studies the monitors, Pierrot drifting along behind him. As he does so, his eyes widen. “Wow,” he breathes, taking in the incredible sight of half a dozen versions of himself, each going about their daily lives. Every single one of them appears to be some kind of villain, as evidenced by the impressive array of costumes. Cat ears, plant-based elements, and puzzle pieces and question marks adorn the various uniforms. No, wait. One is different…

“Is that one _Robin?”_ he yelps, unable to take his eyes off the version of himself who is currently leaping around downtown Gotham in a red and black variation of the familiar Robin suit. He looks again, sure his eyes must have deceived him, but the hair and build are definitely him, not Jason or Dick. “How the heck did that even happen?”

Chessmaster shrugs, mouth twitching. “The vagaries of the multiverse, of course. Anything and everything is true somewhere. There’s even one where we’re a merman.” He points, and yep, that’s definitely a Tim with a fishtail swimming around Gotham Harbor, laughing and splashing his version of Jason. What the heck? “We don’t have the facilities to make him comfortable here, so he won’t be joining us. As for Robin Tim, I considered inviting him to join us, but I suspect the chances are too high he would attempt to join with Batman and apprehend us instead.” He shakes his head.

“How in the world did he ever end up joining forces with _Batman?”_ It seems impossible.

“I honestly have no idea. Someday, maybe I’ll bring him over just to ask and satisfy my curiosity. That’s for another time, however—for now, I have plans.” Chessmaster smiles, nefarious plots practically dancing in his clear blue eyes.

“Too bad,” Jack Frost says, looking at the screen. “I have a feeling he probably has an interesting story to tell.”

“No, I do not believe that particular Tim would be conducive to achieving my goals at all,” Chessmaster says pensively as they watch Robin on the screen grin and land a flying kick to a costumed villain’s head while using a bo-staff to knock out three henchmen before beginning to handcuff the lot. All three of them wince. “No,” he says firmly, reaching out to tap on the screen and close that Tim’s window. “Perhaps a different time.”

Jack Frost turns to face him. “So what is this big plan you keep alluding to, anyway? You mentioned protecting the queen?” Might as well find out the worst now. Protecting someone doesn’t seem too bad, but it might turn out to be worse than it sounds. If it’s something he’s not willing to take part in, he can probably manage to freeze both Chessmaster and Pierrot long enough to use this equipment to send himself home—

Unexpectedly, Chessmaster flushes, a faint pink tinge coloring his pale cheeks. “I require your assistance. You see, I’ve been courting my queen, and a particularly difficult anniversary of his is approaching. I believe you will provide a welcome distraction as well as making an… indelible impression on him.”

“What?” Jack Frost says flatly, blinking. “So let me get this straight. You’re interested in someone, and your idea of a romantic gesture is assembling a harem of villain-selves?”

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Chessmaster’s blush intensifies and he actually looks nervous. Wow.

Jack Frost glances toward Pierrot, who just tilts his head and stares at him with that eternal smile carved into his face. No help there, apparently. He turns back to Chessmaster and shrugs. “I mean, it’s bound to make an impression all right.”

“Excellent,” Chessmaster says, beaming. “I will explain the full details once the others arrive. Meanwhile, care to take a quick tour of my Gotham?”

Well, it’s not like they have anything better to do right now. So far, none of this sounds too bad, and if he can get home tomorrow then everything should be fine. Robin and Mr. Fries will barely even have time to get worried about him before he’ll be back.

Jack Frost nods.

Half an hour later, they’re standing on a shadowed rooftop and looking out over a Gotham that seems pretty similar to his own at first glance. A few differences in the skyline stand out—buildings that were destroyed in his universe that are still standing here, and vice versa—but for the most part, things look roughly the same. “This is less exciting than you led us to believe,” he mutters.

At his side, Pierrot nods. He produces another of those creepy grinning balls from somewhere and tosses it up and down in one hand, eyeing Chessmaster in a disconcerting manner.

Chessmaster just chuckles. “Patience, and you shall see. I brought you to this rooftop for a highly specific reason which will become clear presently.” His black mask with the crown-shaped cutout over his right eye looks really cool, but Jack Frost isn’t going to tell him that. It would just inflate his ego. “Ah, here he is. Right on time.” He sounds pleased.

Jack Frost turns, eager to see who it is. Maybe it’s Chessmaster’s mysterious queen—the person he’s trying to court with this whole ridiculous, over the top gesture. His heartbeat starts to speed up, imaging a handsome face, thick thighs and a rakish grin, and—

“Oh my god it’s Batman,” he whispers, budding libido shriveling as he watches the vigilante approach rapidly from the south. “Please, _please_ tell me that’s not your queen.”

“What?” Chessmaster sputters and starts coughing, gesturing wildly in denial. “No. What? No! My queen is the Red Hood, not- not _Batman!_ He’s way too old and kind of a jerk, and anyway it would probably take forever to get the stick out of his—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Batman says in his trademark gravelly voice from right in front of them.

Jack Frost manages not to yelp in surprise, but only because he’s used to it. His world’s Batman does the exact same thing, after all.

“What are you up to, Chessmaster? Who are these people?” Batman glares, looming in the darkness.

Well, that sounds like a cue. Jack Frost straightens his shoulders and smiles gamely. “I will freeze everyone’s heart!”

At his side, Pierrot leans forward, slowly tilting his head to one side. Batman actually twitches back slightly, clearly affected by the sudden sight of Pierrot’s creepy, well, everything.

“Mr. Batman,” Chessmaster says, producing a chess piece from somewhere and rolling it between his fingers.

* * *

  
Jack Frost, Pierrot, and Chessmaster meeting Batman. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

Batman shakes his head slowly, still staring at them. “I’m not sure I even want to know.” Sighing heavily, he takes a step forward. “Chessmaster, tell me what you’re planning. You can’t bring new villains into my city and expect—”

He’s getting a little too close. If he makes it any closer, he could easily lunge and grab one of them, which would make it much more difficult for the others to resist. He doesn’t seem really angry—Chessmaster must have a decent relationship with the Bats in this universe—but that doesn’t mean whatever trust he has for Chessmaster extends to either Jack Frost or Pierrot.

If Batman gets hold of either of them, it’s entirely possible he’ll drag them off somewhere for interrogation or incarceration. Jack Frost can’t risk that. He needs to be home tomorrow at the very latest. He still remembers how unaccountably upset Mr. Fries was that time he ran off for two days to save Robin. Two days is too long to be gone.

Besides, he’s made it this long without being arrested by a Batman, and he isn’t about to start now.

Jack Frost raises his freeze ray and takes aim at the rooftop in front of Batman’s feet, intending to freeze it and halt his forward progress. He presses the trigger just as a creepily grinning ball goes flying through the air and bounces off Batman’s head. Apparently Pierrot had the same idea about making the Bat keep his distance.

Batman reacts badly, clearly startled by the bizarre projectile. He bats it out of the air and in the process slips on the ice at his feet, crashing down to land on his rear with a soft, startled, “Oof!”

Holy crap. They accidentally took down Batman.

As Batman glares at them and starts to heave himself to his feet, his aura distinctly menacing now, all three of them begin backing away. That was fun and all, but an angry Batman isn’t. “Uh, do you think he’s going to catch us?” Jack Frost whispers as they hurry away, casting a glance over his shoulder to see Batman following them as fast as he can. Hmm, he’s catching up. Jack Frost moves to freeze more of the rooftop even as a barrage of grinning terror-balls descend on Batman, who shouts and collapses under the onslaught.

Chessmaster laughs and shakes his head. “No. No, I’m pretty sure he isn’t.” They grin at each other as they move quickly through the crisp night air, and Jack Frost wonders what other mischief his host has lined up.

Also, who Red Hood might be. Chessmaster said that’s his queen, but it’s not a name Jack Frost is familiar with. Maybe it’s someone who only exists in this universe? Well, he’s bound to find out eventually.

At least it isn’t Batman. Shuddering at that thought, he makes an ice bridge to reach over to the next rooftop. As they cross it, Pierrot cartwheeling across with a distressing lack of concern about the steep dropoff on either side, Chessmaster reaches into his pocket. He extracts a device and checks it, then brightens. “Looks like the device is done recalibrating. Ready to go back and meet the others? Excluding the merman and Robin, of course.”

Jack Frost looks at Pierrot, who nods, dipping his smiling mask in agreement. Both he and Chessmaster are interesting, and working with them is almost intuitive. It might be fun to meet more of them. They all looked like fascinating people, from what he saw on the screens back at Chessmaster’s base. And anyway, they should probably head back before Batman catches up again. “Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

If nothing else, it will be one heck of a story to tell Mr. Fries and Robin about once he gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jack Frost, landing in new universe in gigantic pile of snow:** “Oof” *Spots creepiest villain-Tim ever to creep, who tilts his head and stares at him creepily out of horror-mask* “OMG WHY???” *Attempts to claw his way through reality back into his own universe*  
>  **Chessmaster Tim, buried under the snow:** “Please don’t do that, it’s bad for reality” *Drags himself out of snow pile, somehow looks completely put together and great despite having been dragged through a snowdrift*  
>  **Jack Frost:** *Calms down, stops clawing at reality* “Okay…”  
>  **Pierrot:** *Tilts head farther, looks even creepier somehow*  
>  **Jack Frost:** “Nope nope nope nope!” *Starts clawing at reality again*  
>  **Chessmaster:** *Sighs, face palms* “Pierrot, would you please just introduce yourself?”  
>  **Pierrot, removing mask to reveal adorable, sad Tim-face:** “Oh, okay. Hello, I’m you, but from a universe where no one ever even pretended to care about us except that one night at the circus where bad things happened, so all my wires got crossed and to me screams mean caring. Hi!” *Waves slowly*  
>  **Jack Frost, regarding him with mixed pity and deep, deep unsettlement:** “That did not help allay my anxiety like, at all”  
>  **Chessmaster, muttering under his breath:** “Fine, whatever, can we all just agree to go troll Batman?”  
>  **Jack Frost and Pierrot, regarding each other and then nodding in unison:** “Yeah, okay”  
> A short time later:  
>  **Batman:** *Collapses under barrage of creepy grinning balls and goes sliding across seemingly endless sheet of ice* “WTF”  
>  **Villain Tims, high fiving and snickering as they run away:** “Yeesssss”  
> *  
> Credit for the Chessmaster character goes to [Bonebreakjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonebreakjack/pseuds/Bonebreakjack), who first wrote the character to life in their stories. Credit for the original Chessmaster character sketches and all the other various villain!Tim characters goes to Aldebaran, who has many wonderful villain!Tim sketches and ideas to go with them (especially for Chessmaster). Thanks for letting me play with them!


	6. Chapter 6

Jack Frost watches with a strange feeling of bemused interest as his various alternate selves wander around Chessmaster’s base. A pair of them, the one with conspicuous cat ears on his cowl and the other wearing a plant-themed suit in soft shades of green, are playing chess with each other to pass the time, postures carefully relaxed as they keep a watchful eye on the rest of the room.

As he watches, Cat Tim leans forward and caresses the chess piece shaped like Nightwing, fingers lingering far longer than necessary to move the piece. Plant Tim twitches back slightly, blushing and eyeing him with a wary expression. Cat Tim smirks as he uses Nightwing to take out Penguin while his opponent scowls.

These guys are definitely interesting.

Another, this one wearing goggles suggestive of puzzle pieces, is surreptitiously trying to access Chessmaster’s computer while Chessmaser is distracted trying to stop Pierrot from throwing his ball at everyone. Neither of them seems to be having much success.

“I know you just want to play catch, but these guys just met you! They might find it threatening,” Chessmaster says as he intercepts yet another smiling ball, this one aimed at the back of the cat-themed Tim’s head.

Pierrot hangs his head, his entire body drooping inside his loose costume.

The pair at the chessboard look up and Plant Tim raises an eyebrow at Chessmaster. “So, is this all of us? I think it’s about time you start explaining what’s going on. We need more than you just telling us it’s for a good cause.”

The other Tims nod and gather around, exchanging curious glances.

“Right,” Chessmaster says, sweeping his gaze over all of them. “Everyone’s all here, so let’s get started with introductions.” Starting from the right, he begins to list off names, gesturing toward each of them as he speaks. “This is Jack Frost—ice themed, obviously. Over there is Stray, who styles himself after catwoman. Nightshade, specializes in plant-based toxins. Puzzle, in the theme of the riddler but more playful and a lot smarter. And of course, Pierrot, whose theme is self explanatory. Oh yes, and you may call me Chessmaster.” He finishes with a slight bow, then flashes a disarming smile.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I brought you here tonight. You see, tomorrow is a very special anniversary for someone quite dear to me, and I believe together you can help…” As he opens his mouth to continue, the door swings open and a loud, jovial voice interrupts.

“Hey boss, you got the files for the—” The handsome blond man who just stepped through the door stares, his blue eyes widening as his gaze flicks from one to the other of them before settling on Chessmaster. “Boss, please tell me you didn’t bring multiple versions of you…”

“Okay,” Chessmaster says, sounding amused. “I won’t.”

* * *

  
Rook meeting Chessmaster, Nightshade, Jack Frost, and Pierrot. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

“Hey there,” Stray purrs, cocking a hip and raising an eyebrow as he looks the newcomer up and down. “Grant Wilson, is that you?” He turns to Chessmaster. “You’re working with Ravager? Or…?”

“He’s called Rook, here, and he works for me,” Chessmaster says smoothly.

Grant Wilson? Jack Frost frowns. Isn’t that Deathstroke’s kid? “Wait, so what about Deathstro—” He breaks off as Chessmaster meets his eyes and gives a quick headshake.

“He doesn’t know,” Chessmaster mouths.

“Deathstroke?” Rook brightens. “Good guy, great mentor. Not like my deadbeat old man,” he scowls.

“Uh,” Jack Frost says, not sure what to do with that. Apparently this version of Grant Wilson somehow has no idea his dad and Deathstroke are the same person. Awkward.

All of them stare at him, then look at Chessmaster. “I can’t bring myself to tell him,” he mouths with a helpless shrug.

Okay, fair enough. It’s not their business how he treats his loyal minions.

Rook shakes his head. “Anyway, that’s seriously not the most important thing right now.” He swallows, his gaze trailing over all of them again. He stares at Pierrot for a long moment and then looks away, shuddering, as Pierrot snickers softly behind his hand. “Do I even want to know why, boss?” he asks, voice muffled and longsuffering.

Chessmaster huffs. “I was about to explain everything to them when you walked in.” He turns back to the assembled group. “Now, as I was saying, tomorrow is a very important day for my queen. The Red Hood has a tendency to be very unhappy on this particular day, and I think you can help me cheer him up—”

“Wait, isn’t tomorrow the anniversary of when he…?” Rook trails off, looking uncomfortable.

“When he what?” Jack Frost asks, curious about the identity of Chessmaster’s queen. The name Red Hood still isn’t ringing any bells.

“You know,” Rook says. “When the Joker took Robin and killed him. Before he came back and became the Red Hood.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Oh,” Jack Frost whispers, seeing the same recognition and sadness he feels reflected on all the other versions of his face surrounding him.

“My Jason has trouble on that day, too,” Stray says, looking pensive. Puzzle nods, his fists clenched at his sides. Pierrot’s stance remains loose and relaxed, but his breath hitches. Nightshade just looks sad and worried.

Chessmaster nods. “I’ll make sure to get you all back home in time to be there for your Jasons. I just need you here tonight… Now, actually,” he says as he glances at the time. “It’s almost midnight.” He sighs, mouth tightening. “And I know exactly where my queen will be.” He turns and walks toward the exit. “You coming?”

Rook frowns but steps aside as they all file past him. “Hey boss,” he says after a moment, “good luck.”

“Thanks,” Chessmaster says, a teasing note creeping into his voice. “Say hi to Nightwing for me.”

Blushing, Rook shakes his head. “Yeah, whatever. At least I don’t bring five copies of myself along on my dates. Why do you have to make everything so weird?”

Chessmaster tilts his head. “Do you think Nightwing would like it if I brought over a few other versions of you…?”

“No!” Rook says, sounding appalled at the thought. “Quit trying to help. Get out of here, Jason needs you.”

Jack Frost smirks as he follows the others. Chessmaster is absolutely going to bring multiple versions of Grant Wilson over next as a courting gesture for Nightwing. This is such a bizarre world, but he can’t help enjoying his time here. It’s weird, but fun.

“We’re not taking cars?” he asks, surprised when Chessmaster bypasses the vehicle bays and leads them out a small side door into the shadowy gardens which surround the old Drake estate.

“No,” Chessmaster says, sounding pensive. “We don’t need to go into Gotham for this. He’ll be close.”

They walk along a gravel path through the darkened grounds beneath the sparkling motes of the stars, the chill of early spring sinking into their exposed skin. As they walk, Jack Frost ponders how and why Chessmaster developed a base beneath the old Drake Manor. It probably isn’t his main base—from what he said and showed them during the tour of Gotham earlier, he has several others—but it seems to have some kind of emotional significance.

If nothing else, it’s close to Wayne Manor. Which, he realizes, might be their destination right now, based on the direction they’re headed. He clears his throat, wondering exactly how close this Tim is to his Jason Todd. Come to think of it, he wonders how close any of them are to their Jasons.

Surely he isn’t the only one who just wants, and has no idea if his feelings will ever be returned. “So,” he says after a moment, suddenly very aware of all of them glancing over at him and giving him their attention. “Are you and Jason actually dating?”

“Not yet,” Chessmaster says. “I’m still courting him.”

“I’m doing something like that with my Jason, too,” says Puzzle with a bright smile. “He’s good at solving my puzzles, even if he did think I was a stalker at first.” He snickers, not seeming to mind the mistake.

* * *

  
Puzzle and his Robin. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

“I just gave my Jason flowers and toxic plants until he figured out I liked him.” Nightshade chuckles, shaking his head at Puzzle. “So you took pictures too, huh?”

“I think we all did,” Jack Frost says, looking around to see the others nodding.

“That seems to be one constant across most universes,” Chessmaster agrees.

“Is being interested in Jason also a constant for us?” Stray says, glancing around. “I’m not actually dating mine, but we’ve had an on-again, off-again flirting, occasionally sleeping-together thing for years and it’s pretty obvious we’re headed that way eventually. What about you two?” He turns to Pierrot and Jack Frost. “You guys are the only ones who haven’t said yet.”

“I, uh, like him,” Jack Frost says, feeling his cheeks heat. Wow. Stray and his Jason sleep together sometimes? That seems pretty serious to him. It makes his excitement over occasionally brushing shoulders during patrol or pressing together during sparring seem so childish. “But I’m pretty sure he just thinks of me as a kid still.” He looks away, not wanting to see their pity. “Pierrot?”

At his side, Pierrot tilts his head and then lowers it, shoulders hunching up by his ears. It’s hard to tell if he’s sad, or maybe just embarrassed by the question.

Chessmaster clears his throat. “If you don’t mind me telling them…?” He looks at Pierrot, who nods. “Just before I brought Pierrot over, I watched him lower his mask and offer his Robin one of his smiling balls. Robin looked at him like he’d just been clubbed over the head, and enjoyed the experience.”

Pierrot stops walking and tugs his mask down, peeking out from behind it with a tired little smile. “Ever since the first time he saw me without a mask, he’s always trying to get me to take it off.” He shrugs, sliding the mask back on. “He’s the only one who ever really tried to see behind it.”

* * *

  
Pierrot and his Robin. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

Jack Frost doesn’t even realize he’s reaching out until he finds himself wrapping his arms around Pierrot. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, feeling the body in his arms tense before slowly beginning to relax. After a moment, Pierrot returns the hug, moving cautiously as though uncertain of the mechanics.

He feels someone else’s arms wrap around them from the other side and looks up to see Stray’s sympathetic gaze. “He’s had it the roughest of us, hasn’t he?” The cat-themed villain presses his cheek lightly against the silent boy in the middle of the embrace.

The others linger, looking concerned, until Pierrot sniffs and tugs away from them. He resumes walking down the trail and the rest of them fall in line. As they walk, Jack Frost wonders if they’ll be able to keep in touch after this. It would be interesting to visit some of the other universes, and he’s pretty sure at least a couple of these guys could use a better support system.

He doesn’t have time to ponder it too much before they reach a high rock wall, shrouded in darkness and overgrown with clinging vines. “Through here,” Chessmaster whispers, reaching into the vines and opening a hidden gate.

They step through, and immediately Jack Frost realizes with a sinking sensation that he knows where they are.

It’s a graveyard.

A handful of stones gleam white in the moonlight, neatly lined up in a grassy clearing surrounded by weeping willows. Kneeling over one of the headstones is a tall, well-built man in jeans and a leather jacket. He’s wearing a full-face dark helmet that looks maroon right now but would probably be bright red in daylight. There’s a pile of cigarette butts on the ground on one side and a half-full dark bottle on the other.

His shoulders are shaking.

Chessmaster hisses under his breath. “We should have gotten here sooner,” he mutters, sounding guilty and worried. “I…”

“Who’s there?” Red Hood says, spinning in place and raising the bottle defensively. When he spots them, he doesn’t lower it. “Chessmaster?” he says, sounding gobsmacked. “And…” He shakes his head, reaching up to pull off the helmet and blink at them like he doesn’t quite believe his eyes. “What the fuck?”

He has a white lock of hair over his forehead Jack Frost can’t look away from. Did the Joker do that to him? His stomach twists at the thought. It twists more when he finally notices the name on the tombstone. _Jason Todd._ Oh, no.

“Hi,” Chessmaster says with a little wave. “I was worried about you.”

Red Hood scowls. “Did they send you here? Tell ‘em I’m not gonna do anything dumb. I don’t need any of you assholes checking up on me—”

“No one sent me,” Chessmaster says, taking a small step closer. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, and I thought meeting these guys might cheer you up a little.”

Red Hood blinks and then looks past him, focusing on the assembled group. “Yeah, about that… Are all of these guys, like, alternate versions of you?” They nod, and a crease forms in his brow. “Is this a cloning thing, or a multiverse thing, or what?”

“Multiverse,” Stray says with a playful smile.

Red Hood scrubs his face and sighs, shaking his head. He finally lowers the bottle to the ground and looks back at Chessmaster. “Y’know, normally I’d be all over fighting six different versions of you at the same time—hell, I’d also pay good money to see all of you troll the hell outta B—but tonight…” He trails off, shaking his head again, and sends a pained glance back at the tombstone. His shoulders droop and he looks at the ground. “I think it’s best if I just stay on my own tonight.”

Chessmaster takes another step toward him. “We’re not here to fight, and we already trolled Bruce.”

“Wait, I missed out on trolling Bruce?” Nightshade whispers, sounding aggrieved. “That’s not fair!” Puzzle nods, looking mutinous.

Chessmaster rolls his eyes and continues. “I brought them here because I want to show you how much I care, how much all of us care about you. How much losing you hurt us, and how grateful we are to have you back.” He clears his throat. “I just thought it might help.”

Red Hood stares at them, waiting.

After a minute of silence, Stray begins to speak. “My Jason was… Well. He was always my best friend, even times when we found ourselves on opposite sides of the law. Losing him was…” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s wearing a harsh expression that sends a ripple of fear down Jack Frost’s spine. “I didn’t know he was ever coming back. I thought he was gone forever, and—” He breaks off and looks away, throat working. His voice wavers with raw emotion when he regains enough control to speak. “It may have been an accident, but I have never once regretted killing the Joker. My only regret is, I wasn’t fast enough to save Jason.”

Nightshade clears his throat and then takes a deep breath before telling his story. “Jason never died in my universe. He came really close, but Batman got there in time because Jason used some of the plant toxins I gave him to slow the Joker down. Part of me wanted to make Joker into fertilizer for my plants after that—” He scowls, hands clenching into tight fists, then relaxes. “But he’s too toxic, even for me. I wouldn’t expose my plants to him.” He shrugs. “So instead, I designed some spores that sent him into a permanent coma. This way, Jason never needs to be afraid of him again.”

Red Hood just stares at them, a minute tremble visible in his gloved hands.

“The Joker in my universe disappeared,” Puzzle says brightly after a suitably long pause. “No one’s ever managed to find any of the clues I left, not even Batman, so I doubt he’ll ever be found.” He smiles then, a glittering, knife-sharp thing that feels like a threat. “I killed him, and I’d do it again a hundred times for Jason.”

Pierrot just nods and whispers, “Me too,” before tilting his mask toward Jack Frost in an expectant manner.

“I saved my Jason,” Jack Frost says, closing his eyes against the bitter pain and envy in his alternates’ gazes at his words. It seems he’s the only one who got there in time. Even Nightshade, who managed to save his Robin, sounds like he wasn’t actually there when it happened. His Jason was alone.

“Wait, so your Joker’s still alive?” Stray asks, sounding disapproving.

Jack Frost opens his eyes at that. “Oh, no—Mr. Fries definitely killed him, even if no one’s able to prove it,” he says. “I’m pretty sure he was worried the Joker would come after me or Jason again, so he decided to take care of things.”

The others nod their approval and look back at Red Hood, who stares at him for a long moment before turning to Chessmaster and shaking his head slowly. “I mean, this is great and all, that all these other versions of you kicked the Joker’s ass for their Jasons, but it’s not—” His voice breaks off and he looks away, mouth twisting like he’s swallowed something bitter. He drops his gaze to the ground and his voice to a whisper. “No one ever did any of that for me, here.”

Chessmaster sucks in a breath, body tensing as though he’s been struck a grievous blow. Reaching up, he removes his mask and allows it to slip unheeded to the ground. “Jason,” he whispers, sounding pained. “I thought… I honestly thought you realized.”

Red Hood lifts his head and looks at him, a frown gathering on his handsome brow. “Realized what?”

Chessmaster steps forward and reaches out, his gloved hand settling on Red Hood’s chest over his heart. “My queen, did you truly believe I would do nothing to avenge you? Of course I punished the one who took you away—I swept him off the board and he’s never coming back. I—”

A wounded noise from the Red Hood cuts him off and he looks at the taller man in alarm. “My queen,” he says, eyes wide with visible distress. “I thought you knew. I’m sorry. I meant for tonight to be a gift, a demonstration of how loved you are, not to upset you more—”

“Shut up,” Red Hood says roughly, finally raising his hand to close it over the one resting on his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you offed the goddamn Joker? I been having nightmares for years about that shithead comin’ back for me.”

“I truly believed you were aware of what I had done. I didn’t tell you outright because I am used to working in secret, and I did not wish to put you in the position of having to choose between me and Batman’s ideals. But I thought…” Chessmaster lowers his gaze and shakes his head slowly. “I thought you knew he was dead.”

Red Hood draws in a shuddering breath, their linked hands on his chest rising together with his inhalation. “Nope,” he says, then grins and lifts Chessmaster’s hand to his lips. “Best fuckin’ deathday present I ever had.”

Chessmaster’s face lights up and the lines of tension melt from his body. “Oh,” he says softly. “I’m glad.”

Jack Frost’s mouth drops open as he watches the two of them lean in, closer and closer until—

Right before it looks like they’re about to kiss, Chessmaster gently pushes Red Hood back. “Wait, how much did you have to drink before we got here, anyway? I’m not kissing you unless I’m sure you actually want it.” 

Red Hood looks at him with a baffled expression, which clears after a moment as he begins to laugh. “What, this?” He nudges the amber bottle on the ground with his toe, tipping it. “It’s not liquor—I hate alcohol, reminds me too much of Willis. Naw,” he grins, “this is just tea. Alfred gives me a thermos of it every year when I come out here.”

Nightshade raises an eyebrow. “So, why the amber bottle?” After a moment, he begins to smirk. “Bruce?” he guesses, beginning to laugh. “Geez, you’re such a jerk.” He sounds admiring.

Nodding, Red Hood grins like a bastard. “Fuck yeah. I swap it into the liquor bottle because I know Bruce watches over me when I’m out here and I can’t miss an opportunity to give the creepy ol’ bastard hell.” There’s affection in his voice despite the hard words.

“That’s mean,” a soft voice says, and everyone turns to look at Pierrot, who’s peeking out at Red Hood from behind his mask. “I like it.”

Red Hood blinks at him, flushes faintly, and then clears his throat. He blinks again. “Wow,” he says, sounding stunned. “I fucking hate clowns, but I’ll make an exception for you. You actually make the whole scary clown shit work somehow. Apparently I find every goddamn version of you hot.” He blushes harder. “Shit, I said that out loud.”

“Yep,” Stray says, snickering. “It’s okay—we’re all friends here.” He winks, then gives a little shimmy as he purrs, “Maybe more than friends.”

Red Hood stares at him in dazed bewilderment, then turns to Chessmaster to complain. “I’m not even sure I’m dating _you_ yet—I don’t think I’m ready for a moresome with you and your alternate selves, no matter how badass and hot they all are.” He looks like he might never stop blushing. It’s so cute.

Chessmaster’s breath catches and he tips his face up with a breathtaking smile. “My queen, does this mean you accept my courting gesture?”

“What the…?” Red Hood sighs and bends down to brush his cheek against Chessmaster’s, a helpless grin stealing over his face. “You’re such a weirdo. Fuck, yes, of course. I absolutely accept your goddamn over the top courting gesture.”

When they finally kiss, Red Hood’s trembling hands cupping Chessmaster’s cheeks like he’s fragile and precious and didn’t just admit to straight-up murdering a dude for him, Jack Frost isn’t the only one who sighs.

He’s happy for them—he is. Only, he can’t help but wish he could have this, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jack Frost, eyeing all the new Villain!Tims with curiosity and interest:** “Okay, so I get the cat, plant, and clown themes for these other guys, but who are you supposed to be? Like, a riddler wannabe?”  
>  **Puzzle, hacking into Chessmaster’s computer and searching for clues as to why they’re all here:** “The Riddler is a hack, don’t compare me to him or I’ll start talking about how cute and not intimidating you are compared to the rest of us”  
>  **Jack Frost, eyes narrowing:** “Fair”  
>  **Rook, walking in all unsuspecting:** “Hey Tim I made pancakes—” *Spots them all, drops pancakes on the floor and clutches at his hair* “Oh my god what? What have you done this time?”  
>  **Chessmaster, smiling:** “Bent the rules of time and space and kidnapped five of my alternate selves from their universes”  
>  **Rook, wailing:** “Whhhhyyyy????”  
>  **Chessmaster, pensively:** “My queen is sad and I want to give him a gift to make him feel better”  
>  **Rook, staring at all of them again with new eyes:** “Wait, so… Is this a sex thing? You’re like my little brother, I don’t need to know about your sex life!” *Covers his ears and flees the room*  
> Later:  
>  **Red Hood, eyeing all the Tims with confusion and interest:** “So, you thought I was sad and you got me a… you-harem?”  
>  **Chessmaster, shrugging:** “Close enough” *Jumps into Red Hood’s arms and kisses him, grins when Red Hood returns the kiss enthusiastically*  
>  **Other Tims, watching:** “Aw, yay, they got together and Jason is happy now!” *Watch a while longer, start to get uncomfortable* “Uh, I guess we should just… go… now?” *Begin to drift off back to the portal machine*  
>  **Stray, not moving:** “I mean, it would be rude to leave while they’re putting on such a great a show…” *Snickers when Nightshade rolls his eyes and collars him, dragging him along with them* “Fine, but only because I want to go home and try to put the moves on my own Jason now”  
>  **Nightshade, confused:** “But don’t you guys already have a friend-with-benefits thing going? You said you slept together before”  
>  **Stray, blushing:** “Uh, so when I said we sleep together sometimes? What I actually meant was we fell asleep next to each other on a stakeout once and I’ve been using that to tease him mercilessly for years”  
>  **Nightshade:** “Dude”  
>  **Stray, laughing under his breath:** “You should've seen Batman’s face the first time I casually mentioned sleeping with Robin, it was HILARIOUS”


	7. Chapter 7

Back at Chessmaster’s base, the group makes short work of setting up the multiverse tech to send themselves back to their own worlds. It feels like the right thing to do, considering they seem to have fulfilled Chessmaster’s purpose in bringing them here. Besides, if Chessmaster didn’t want them to break into his base, hack his computer, and help themselves to his tech to send themselves back, he shouldn’t have let himself get so distracted making out with Red Hood.

Jack Frost barely holds back a sigh as he paces, automatically dodging the grinning ball Pierrot tosses at his head. Now that it’s almost time to go home, the impatience he’s managed to suppress so far is making itself known. 

Puzzle sits at the computer bank and moves his hands rapidly over the keyboard, running through the portal settings for what must be the tenth time. He didn’t seem to have any trouble getting into the system, a fact which raises Jack Frost’s estimates of his abilities by more than a bit. Now, if only he would quit triple checking his work and just send them home already.

Nightshade leans forward to read over Puzzle’s shoulder, then crosses his arms with a huff. He looks like he’s barely resisting the urge to tap his foot. “Look, I get that you’re a perfectionist, but some of us really need to be getting home soon.”

Stray raises a curious eyebrow from where he’s lounging against the corner of the desk and fondling a chess piece shaped like Robin. “Oh? What’s your hurry? It’s not like we’ve been gone more than a few hours. I doubt anyone’s even noticed—”

At that moment, a deafening percussive sound accompanied by a minor shockwave originating from right in front of the computer sends all of them diving back into defensive stances. Vines shoot out of Nightshade’s sleeves and wrap around Puzzle and Stray, dragging them backward as Nightshade leaps to safety and pulls the others clear of the disturbance.

Wow. That’s both awesome and kind of scary. He saw this earlier, when Nightshade came through the portal, but he hasn't really had time to think about it yet. Where are the vines even coming from?

On second thought, maybe he doesn’t want to know.

Crouched with Pierrot behind the computer bank, Jack Frost holds his ice ray at the ready as he peeks around the edge of the desk to try to figure out what’s going on. What he sees does not reassure him.

There’s a portal forming in the center of the room, vivid swirls of bluish light radiating out from a blinding center. He shoots a quick glance over to Puzzle, who shakes his head. Okay, so his tinkering with the multiverse tech didn’t cause this.

Well, that’s not good.

Swallowing, Jack Frost thumbs the settings on his freeze ray to increase the power. Whatever’s coming through that portal, there’s no reason to believe it’s going to be friendly. Across the room, he sees Nightshade’s vines coiling around him as Stray produces a whip from somewhere, both their intent gazes locked on the portal. Puzzle doesn’t seem to be holding any visible weapons, but Jack Frost has no doubt he’s ready for a fight, too. Every one of their faces has the same determined expression.

Looking back to the growing portal, he narrows his eyes and waits. Whatever’s coming, they’re ready. A shadowy form begins to coalesce in the center of the portal, which swirls, contracts, and then abruptly stabilizes, leaving…

“Mr. Fries?” he yelps, almost dropping the freeze ray. “What are you doing here? I mean… _how?”_

Mr. Fries, standing there in what Jack Frost easily recognizes as his battle armor—an experimental ultra-strong, heavily weaponized, and lethal version of his normal cryogenic suit—spins in place at the sound of his voice, looking around with an almost frantic expression. He’s dual-wielding two enormous freeze rays and all of the suit weapons—of which there are _so many_ —appear to be armed and ready.

Holy crap.

The moment Mr. Fries spots him, the fierce scowl he’s wearing melts into an expression of what can only be profound relief. He strides forward and sinks to one knee at Jack Frost’s side to look him over, clearly searching for signs of mistreatment or injury. After a moment, his gaze moves to Pierrot at his side and lingers, a pucker forming between his eyebrows as he visibly weighs the potential threat. Jack Frost is just opening his mouth to say that he’s a friend when Pierrot carefully pushes his mask up, peeking out from behind it to blink up at Mr. Fries with tired, innocent-looking blue eyes.

Mr. Fries blinks, stares for a long moment, and then looks at Jack Frost again, his gaze traveling over them more slowly this time and probably taking note of his protective positioning in front of Pierrot. A moment later, he shakes his head, a gentle smile reaching his eyes. “I do not believe you truly need to ask such a question, snowflake—you are here, so of course I came for you. As to how, simply know that over the years I have acquired more than a few items left behind by others who came to Gotham to wreak havoc. The particular device I am using is one I pilfered from a base once used by Lex Luthor.” He raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “I am far more curious how you came to be here, and why.”

“Wow, your Mr. Freeze is way more impressive than the one in my universe,” Stray whispers, tucking his whip away and edging forward now that the threat seems to be over.

Nightshade nods, vines subsiding back up his sleeves. “Agreed. Ours never does anything this cool.” After a moment, he makes a face and snickers. “That pun was not intentional, but I’ll totally take it.”

Puzzle just watches, probably noting every minor detail of Mr. Fries’ appearance and logging it away for future reference.

Mr. Fries looks at each of them, his weapons slowly lowering as he takes in their faces and voices. “You’re all Tim,” he says after a moment, surprise coloring his voice as he rises to his feet. “All of you. What in the name of—” He holsters his weapons and raises a hand, looking around with an almost helpless expression, as though he wants to reach out to all of them and can’t decide where to start. “What could have possibly brought you all here? Are you all right?”

Jack Frost stands up, tugging Pierrot along with him, and steps out from behind the desk. “We’re fine. It was another Tim who needed our help who brought us here, actually. He’s got what he needed now, so we were all about to go home.”

“Ah,” says Mr. Fries with a quiet sigh. “In that case, I suppose I shall not need to destroy anyone to defend you, after all.” He reaches out and rests a gloved hand on Jack Frost’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I will certainly expect to hear the full details of your adventure later. However, if all is well, then we should not linger here. As it is, I suspect Batman will not long be able to hold Robin back from following me.”

Jack Frost blinks. “Robin? Wait, why are he and Batman there?”

Mr. Fries chuckles. “Child, if you have not yet realized how very much you are loved, and by how many, then I do not know how to convince you except by continuing to show you at every opportunity. Of course Robin came to both Batman and myself the moment you disappeared. The poor lad was frantic. Batman is the one who was familiar with the multiverse tech which I, er, liberated from Luthor, and he assisted in calibrating it to find this universe based on passive readings collected by Robin’s suit when you vanished.”

“Group effort,” Nightshade says, nodding his head. “Nice. Ivy doesn’t tend to work well with others, but I can see how that might be handy.” Stray’s tilting his head with a soft, knowing smile, and Pierrot is leaning forward. His mask is down again, but somehow the lines of his posture convey a sense of yearning. Puzzle is typing away at the computer again, only a slight tilt of his head giving away that he’s still paying attention to the rest of them.

“Wow,” Jack Frost whispers, not quite sure what to do with any of this. There’s a warm feeling spreading through him and he can’t hold back a happy smile. They were looking for him, all of them. “Guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Mr. Fries nods and glances toward the portal, which is still glowing and pulsing. Jack Frost takes a step forward and then hesitates, feeling a tug on his hand. When he turns to look, he sees Pierrot, his shoulders tense and his smiling mask tilted down in a way that looks anything but happy.

His heart twists as he wonders what’s waiting for Pierrot back in his universe. Nothing as warm and caring as what he’s going home to himself, that’s for sure.

Biting his lip, he looks around and sees the others, all of their expressions dimming slightly now that he’s actually on the brink of leaving. He frowns and turns to Puzzle. There’s got to be a way to fix this. What’s the point of opening contact between universes if they’re never going to bother seeing each other again? “Hey, do you think we could stay in touch somehow? I know we have to say goodbye, but…”

He still doesn’t know all of their stories, how they got to where they are. There must be lessons in their pasts, mistakes and victories worth exploring amidst all the little differences that shaped their paths and made them into themselves instead of him. Surely, it would be a good idea to swap stories and maybe have a chance to learn something from each other’s experiences.

And what if something like this happens again—a situation in which one of them needs help, and having multiple Tims to consult could provide a solution? Not to mention, the potential trolling possibilities are endless. It would be a wasted opportunity if they all just walk away now without looking back.

Besides, even if the rest of them seem to be doing well enough on their own, Pierrot clearly isn’t. The way he reacted to a simple hug… Jack Frost doesn’t want to leave him on his own again. His mind echoes with painful memories of his parents pretending affection in front of others and then leaving him, colder and more alone than ever, and he knows if he doesn’t make an effort, he’ll be no better than them.

Puzzle hums and looks mysterious as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small object and handing it to him. Looking at the little trinket resting on his palm, Jack Frost sees it’s a chess piece, carved to look like himself in his uniform. Cool. As he examines it, he realizes there’s a well-hidden trigger in the base. “Is this going to stab or poison me if I press it?” he asks cautiously. Better safe than sorry—he is in a supervillain base, after all. At Puzzle’s headshake, he presses it and a little jump drive slides out. “Oh,” he says. “What…?”

Puzzle hands matching chess pieces out to the others, each carved to resemble the person he gives it to. “I found a note about these in Chessmaster’s multiverse database. Each one contains readings of the unique energy signatures for all our universes, so in theory it should be easy for us to find each other again using these. He wanted to give them to us before we left so we’ll be able to visit if we want. Assuming we can all get access to suitable tech, of course.”

“Awesome,” Nightshade whispers as he accepts his chess piece. Pierrot’s disappears up his long sleeves as he relaxes, the desperate yearning melting away from his posture.

Stray’s goes right down the front of his uniform. “What?” he says when he sees Jack Frost looking. “No one ever thinks to look there.” He gives a little shimmy and grins. “Well, except Robin.

Jack Frost can feel his face heating up. Nightshade doesn’t look any better. Puzzle just looks interested.

“Robin? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Mr. Fries shakes his head. “Similarities across different universes are not at all unexpected, after all, and my snowflake has been smitten with that boy for quite some time now. But really, you’re all far too young to be thinking about beaus. Now, perhaps in a decade or so—”

Stray grins, probably about to say something horribly embarrassing about sleeping with Robin. Jack Frost clears his throat and gives him a warning glance. There’s no need to worry Mr. Fries more about the possibility of a relationship happening between him and Robin, not when his Jason has never given any sign of being interested in him in that way. The last thing he needs is Stray putting ideas in Mr. Fries’ head.

The only thing worse than an awkward facts of life lecture from his guardian would be an awkward facts of life lecture accompanied by dating advice he’ll never even be able to use because the object of his affections thinks of him as a cute little kid.

“You don’t need to worry,” he tells Mr. Fries, then mutters, “At this rate, I’m just going to end up married to science.”

“Ah, excellent! Science is a most worthy pursuit.” Mr. Fries beams, then glances around again. “So, I take it I should be expecting occasional visitors for the foreseeable future?” he says, sounding both tired and impossibly fond. “I suppose we could get a futon.”

Jack Frost grins, heart light and mind racing with ideas for how to play if and when any of his alternate selves come to town. Mr. Fries really is the best.

He pulls Pierrot in for one last quick hug before handing him off to the others, who draw him close. The sound of a shutter click has him looking up in surprise to see Mr. Fries, looking pleased as he lowers his phone. “For the memory book,” he says by way of explanation.

* * *

  
Villainous Meeting. Chessmaster posing for a picture with Jack Frost, Nightshade, Stray, Pierrot, and Puzzle. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr).](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/)

(Chessmaster found out later about them taking a picture without him and made Jack Frost send him a copy so he could edit himself in).

* * *

Jack Frost nods, glad for the memento, and steps forward to stand with Mr. Fries. He barely has time for one last wave before the overwhelming light and sound of the portal overpowers everything else.

The next thing he knows, he’s standing in the center of Mr. Fries’ main base, his knees buckling at the sudden change in environment. Mr. Fries braces him with a steady grip on his shoulders. “Thanks,” he says, looking up with a grateful smile. “For, uh, everything.” He winces, thinking about how inconvenient it must have been for everyone to have to drop everything to try to find him.

Mr. Fries sighs, a soft look in his eyes. “I will always come for you, my child,” he says, leaning forward to gently bump the glass dome of his cryogenic suit against Jack Frost’s forehead. It’s far from the first time he’s performed that little gesture of affection. It’s not even the first time he’s spoken those exact words. But somehow, here in the aftermath of Mr. Fries following him to _another universe_ because he thought he needed help…

For the first time, Jack Frost really believes him.

Deep inside, a tiny lingering fragment of ice, planted in his heart by his parents’ indifference and the echoing loneliness of his childhood, finally melts.

Warmth blooms and suffuses what feels like his entire being, and all he can do is reach out and hug Mr. Fries. His father, really, or at least the closest he’s ever had to one. The thought makes his eyes prickle with unwanted tears. Now that he knows some of the alternatives, he’s all the more grateful for the man holding him right now.

“Holy fuck, it _worked!_ Lemme go, B!” The familiar voice is followed by the feeling of a bigger body richochetting into them. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him close as Jason, wearing the Robin costume but not the mask, whispers, “Shit, snowflake, don’t _do_ that. Never do that again.” His hair is more tousled than usual and he doesn’t seem to notice or care that he’s also half-hugging Mr. Fries to get at Jack Frost.

Mr. Fries chuckles and ruffles Jason’s already messy hair before gently extricates himself from them, then heads over to where Jack Frost can see Batman hovering awkwardly. “He _bit_ me,Victor,” Batman says, sounding surprised and indignant as he rubs at his hand, scowling at Jason. “He was about to jump into the portal when you got here. That little…”

“No so little anymore. He’s nearly taller than you are now. And didn’t I warn you he would put up a fight at not being allowed to come through the portal?” Mr. Fries says with a chuckle. “He was very worried about his friend.”

At that, Batman’s expression softens and he sighs. “Weren’t we all? I would have gone myself, if we hadn’t needed someone here to stabilize the portal and handle any issues on this end.” Shaking his head, he turns to a bank of unfamiliar tech that Jack Frost hadn’t noticed before and begins fiddling with some of the dials. “We need to disable and dismantle this now so there aren’t any potential unintended consequences. Leaving it assembled would just invite accidents. Would you mind…?”

Mr. Fries nods and moves to assist him. “Of course. And if I did not say so before, Bruce… Thank you for your assistance in this matter. I do not know what I would have done without you—”

Jack Frost turns away as the pair of them fall into quiet conversation while working on the tech. He tunes them out and focuses on the man holding him so close. Everything about Jason, from his warmth to the carefully controlled strength of his embrace to his very scent—it’s all so familiar and welcome.

And none of it will ever belong to him, not the way Chessmaster and Red Hood belong to each other now.

The thought sends a stab of pain through Jack Frost even as he shucks his goggles so he can nuzzle closer. Tim sighs as he sheds his persona and relaxes into his best friend’s strong arms. He breathes in and out, sinking into the feeling of safety that wraps around him here, surrounded by his most precious people.

Maybe it’s a good thing he accepts that they’ll never have that kind of relationship. After all, he can’t really imagine courting Jason the way Chessmaster courted his queen—that’s really not his style. The methods his alternate selves mentioned using to impress their own Jasons weren’t particularly appealing, either. Well, maybe the flowers Nightshade mentioned. Minus the toxins.

Anyway, all of those Tims are so different from him in subtle but noticeable ways, it follows that their Jasons are just as different from his. What works for them probably wouldn’t work for him. Heck, the biggest difference is insurmountable—their Jasons return their affection.

He sighs, wondering guiltily if he should step away soon. It probably isn’t fair on some level for him to continue to enjoy the hug when Jason isn’t aware of how much he wants this to be more. He can’t quite bring himself to let go, so as a compromise, he raises his head and tilts it back to get some space between them.

That just provides him a close up view of Jason’s handsome face with its lopsided grin and relieved expression. “I was so fuckin’ scared when you fell into that fuckin’ portal, you got no idea. When you just disappeared like that—” He shakes his head, shuddering.

Tim stares at him and feels a wave of protective tendering surging up within him at the sight of Jason, his Jason—still eager and bright with hope and what’s left of his innocence. The memory of Red Hood and the broken pain in his voice, his eyes… It hurts with a bright agony that almost steals his breath.

They came so close to losing him to that pain. If he hadn’t managed to get there in time…

The thought makes him want to steal Jason away, keep him gathered up in his arms and somehow protect him from the world and every horrible thing that might ever happen to him, in this or any other universe.

It makes him want to do something reckless.

Jason’s looking at him intently, the grin slipping from his face as concern takes its place. He gently shakes Tim. “Fuck, snowflake, where the hell were you? Nightwing and the girls are out canvassing the city in case the portal led somewhere nearby. We weren’t sure the energy readings my suit got were accurate, or if they might be a false lead—we’ve all been so damn worried about you.”

He releases a long, shuddering sigh, and Tim sees it.

The look on his face, that expression of mixed concern and affection and something underneath he’s starting to recognize as a reflection of his own want—it’s the same expression Red Hood had when he looked at Chessmaster.

“Oh,” he whispers, and leans forward into Jason’s broad chest, lifting up on his toes to reach.

Jason goes very still, his gorgeous blue eyes widening, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he presses closer, fingers tightening on Tim’s back. “Snowflake?” he breathes, gaze flitting back and forth between Tim’s eyes and his lips.

Good enough, Tim thinks, and makes a leap of faith. He leans forward, his eyes falling closed, and somewhere in the middle they meet. Jason’s warm lips cover his and one of them makes a soft sound that’s quickly lost as they move together in a thrilling press of heat and want that sends his heart racing.

Tim’s hands somehow end up in Jason’s already-tousled hair and he takes great pleasure in messing it up even more while Jason groans softly, his own hands drifting down to settle on Tim’s hips and pull.

A loud gasp behind them draws them back to a sense of their surroundings an indefinite amount of time later. Tim blinks his eyes open, his hazy gaze settling on Jason’s equally dazed-looking face. At the sight of those full lips, swollen and red from their kisses, he can’t suppress the pleased smile that steals onto his own face.

Even though both of their dads are standing right there watching, and clearly dismayed at this development, he can’t bring himself to regret it.

“But you were going to be married to science,” Mr. Fries says in a plaintive voice, the tool he’s holding slipping loose and clanging on the floor as he raises a beseeching hand. “Or at least wait until you’re in your twenties and your brain is finished developing.”

Batman just stares at them for a long moment, then focuses on Jason. He takes a deep, bracing breath, then says, “I have prepared a slideshow in anticipation of this event—”

“Oh, Jesus, of fuckin’ course you have,” Jason says, leaning forward to bury his face in Tim’s neck with a rueful laugh. “I’ve been wanting this for so damn long, snowflake—wanted _you,_ wanted us, and I’m glad as hell you’re interested in all of that too—but god _damn,_ we have got to work on your shitty timing.”

Snickering, Tim presses a kiss to Jason’s ear, which is the only part of him he can easily reach right now besides his hair. “Sorry,” he says, not feeling even a little bit apologetic.

After all, Mr. Fries and Batman will come around. This is just their way of showing how much they care.

Leaning into Jason’s side and chuckling as their dads sputter, trail off, and eventually subside to continue taking apart the multiverse tech while occasionally muttering something about a slideshow or the joys of science, Tim knows he wouldn’t change a damn thing.

* * *

  
Jack Frost. Art by [Aldebaran26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldebaran26/pseuds/aldebaran26) [(tumblr)](https://al-debaran26.tumblr.com/).

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **All the Tims in Chessmaster’s base, hanging out while Puzzle works to send them home:** “Yay we’re going home, good thing hardly any time has passed so there’s no way anyone’s worrying about us yet—”  
>  **Swirling portal into another universe, proving them wrong:** *Opens*  
>  **Mr. Fries, stepping through:** “Snowflake? Where have you been, you didn’t show up for midnight snack and I was worried”  
>  **Other Tims:** “Oh hey guess someone DID notice”  
>  **Jack Frost:** “Mr. Fries! Sorry to inconvenience you—”  
>  **Mr. Fries:** “You’re never an inconvenience, come here so I can give you more of the hugs you missed out on during your childhood” *Looks around, notices he’s surrounded by Tims* “What…? Oh, whatever, get over here!” *Somehow manages to simultaneously hug all the Tims*  
>  **Jack Frost:** “Yay! Although I wish there was a way to stay in touch—” *Falls silent as Puzzle hands everyone gadgets to help them stay in touch* “Well okay then. Later guys!” *Leaps into portal with Mr. Fries, is immediately caught by a desperate, panicking Jason*  
>  **Jason:** “Holy fuck snowflake I about gnawed B’s hand off to escape his fuckin’ deathgrip, I was about to dive into that portal to go help save you”  
>  **Tim:** “That’s hot”  
>  **Jason, pausing:** “Wait what” *Confused but smoldering gaze involuntarily drops to Tim’s lips*  
>  **Tim, still riding high on all the happy feelings from his trip across the multiverse:** “Here goes nothing!” *Stands on tiptoes, kisses Jason who reciprocates enthusiastically and thoroughly*  
>  **Mr. Fries and Batman, cringing and covering their eyes:** “If we don’t look it isn’t happening” *Stand there in silence as loud smacking noises and soft moans make it absolutely clear that yes, this IS happening* “Okay change of plans. Boys, come over here, Batman has prepared a slideshow…”  
> *  
> Bonus scene from Aldebaran:  
>  **Batman:** “So, you two have been dating…”  
>  **Jason:** “OH COME ON!! WE ARE ALREADY ADULTS!!!”  
>  **Tim:** *Blasts freeze gun at Batman and runs* “Sorry!! Chessmaster says your talks are really bad!!”  
> *  
> Another bonus (from Aldebaran and njw):  
>  **Jason:** “You are cute and harmless!! Like the first snowfall of winter!!”  
>  **Tim:** *Blasts freeze gun and sticks Jason to the wall, smirking* “Oh look a Robin popsicle!”  
>  **Jason:** *Grins* “What? You gonna lick me all over till I melt in your mouth?”  
>  **Tim:** “GDI JASON!!”  
>  **Mr. Fries and Batman, watching from on top of a nearby building:** “...”  
>  **Batman, staring as they scamper off, still flirting outrageously:** “I need a drink”  
>  **Mr. Fries:** *Hands him one, takes the bottle for himself* “...Yep”  
> *  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and big thanks to the mods over at the Batfam Ship discord for organizing this event. Huge thanks to Aldebaran for the wonderful art, and for letting me play with some of your adorable villain Tim characters! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


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